


The Clairs

by SummoningMutations



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Blood, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Friendship, Guns, Kinda, Knives, M/M, Magic, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Oppressive Government, Science Fiction, Slow Build, Violence, future relationship, i don't know how to tag, i guess ill do it as i go?, nah it's mind control, not modern au, or something like it..., people do that right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7176218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummoningMutations/pseuds/SummoningMutations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Clair is a person born with special abilities.</p><p>There are four types of Clairs.</p><p> Eren Yeagar happens to be one of those four. </p><p>Everything would be great in life if Clairs weren't hunted down and slaughtered like animals in the world they live in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Destruction. Martyrdom. Murder. Fear. Death.

**Author's Note:**

> soo.... Hey, guys! This is my first fanfic I've ever tried to write. I tried to make it a little different and what not. The summary sucks, and I'm sorry 'bout that, but hopefully you'll like the fic. It will eventually be ereri, but with this fic, there's a lot of world building and what not, so it's not gonna happen RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT. 
> 
> Also, it's 5 a.m. here, so I'll go back an fix any mistakes when I'm not sleep deprived. If there's any mistakes worth pointing out then please by all mean point them out. 
> 
> Any comments and criticism (good and bad) is greatly appreciated! The chapters will be fairly short (2k to 3k words) but regardless, i hope you guys enjoy.

Destruction. Martyrdom. Murder. Fear. Death. Those are the only five words that the world knew during those years of the great battle. It’s hard to talk about, even for the people who had not been there. It’s a stain in history that is best forgotten and tucked away in the margins of a textbook. It is the time when humanity was at its weakest. A time when chaos ravaged the planet, and the ones that fell victim to humanity’s destruction were powerless to stop it. These people are only known by one name: The Clairs. They emerged in the year 2401, at the turn of the new century. People with powers and abilities beyond the comprehension of normal human abilities. People who could bend shadows and darkness. People who could set cities on fire with a snap of their fingers. The world was in complete and utter desperation to understand. However, fear got in the way of their conscious. Instead of trying to understand new assets to their world, they grew weary of a possible threat.

They hunted down all of the Clairs and killed them like animals. Slaughtered by the thousand, the Clairs sought shelter in various locations. All of Clairs seemed to disappear off the face of the Earth. And those who did not escape weren’t so lucky. To this day, all of the people who were affected by this “outbreak” as their now calling it, like some kind of disease, are still hunted and killed in fear of being rejected. 

Outlawed and outcast, the Clairs have become a nuisance to society and a stain on history. So they hid. Never to be seen again. And if there are some still out there, they don’t let themselves be known to have abilities such as these. It could be your neighbor, the guy that bags your groceries, your teacher, or even your mother. But they are everywhere, and at the same time, they are nowhere. 

My story starts fifty years after the outbreak. Clairs are still hunted and killed to this day, but trust me when I say that we’re very capable of hiding ourselves. We look like everyone else, but we have to be careful to keep our secret. Powers are tied to emotions, and sometimes, just like emotions, powers are hard to control. 

At least, that’s what I figured out one day in an Alley. 

I don’t remember what or who started the argument. All I know is one minute I’m yelling at the top of my lungs, and the next, I’m being chased through the back alleys of Shiganshina by a certain horse-faced bastard with a stupid hair cut. Jean had probably tried to put the moves on Mikasa, my sister, and I probably threw a punch or two and bolted. Jean, like the moron he is, chased after me. 

But the burning in my lungs is starting to get unbearable and I know that I’ll have to stop soon. But if I stop, Jean will likely tackle me. Anger is seeping through my skin, and everything feels really hot all of a sudden. What would Armin do? I ask myself, in vain, I might add. Armin probably wouldn’t have thrown a punch in the first place. He’s too smart for that. Even though we’ve been friends since childhood, I could never pick up on his logic, as he liked to call it. He probably would’ve bought Jean some coffee, and talked to him like any civilized person. 

No, I’m already running. I have to be smart about this. Here. Now. I could take him by surprise. Turn around suddenly and attack? No. I can’t. I have to lose him. I can feel my control slipping away, and if I lose control in front of Jean of all people, who knows what’s going to happen. 

Suddenly, I feel hands against my shoulders, and I see the ground rushing up to meet me, and I know this is it. All the careful planning, all the sleepless nights, all of it was for nothing. Because this is the moment Eren Yaegar ends. I’ll get caught. The Military Police will get called. Jean will hold me down if doesn’t run away, screaming. I’ll get caught. They’ll find out. I’ll never be able to show my face in Shiganshina again. 

My head hits the stone of the alley floor, and there’s a loud ringing in my ears. And all of a sudden, I’m not worried about any of that anymore. I’m just severely pissed off. It floods thought me like a shock, lighting all of my nerves on fire. There’s stinging behind my eyes, and I know they aren’t tears. Merely side effects of what is about to happen. There’s a burning in my lungs and throat, and I know that it wasn’t because I was running. Again, these are side effects. My whole body burns up, everything I touch feels like fire. 

Because it is. Flames shoot up from my very skin, controlled only by the anger coursing through my veins. I know that they’ve burned my clothes to shit, and now they’re burning Jean.

I hear Jean hiss in pain as he scrambles off of me, cursing as he goes. I know this is it. He’s found out. I mean, nobody's body just erupts into flames like mine just did. Nobody's clothes burn off of them and their skin remains unblemished. Jean knows now, and just like that, all of my anger disappears, and the red flames surrounding me disappear. I slowly stand, praying to God that I’m not standing naked. Luckily, my clothes are only scorched, nothing shot to pieces. Jean’s still laying on the ground, mouth agape as he stares at me with wide eyes. I can practically hear the scream I know is coming. I should probably run. Get as much distance from me and this place as I can before Jean comes to his sense. 

Only the scream never comes, and I find myself offering Jean a hand up, which he takes hesitantly. We’re standing face to face now, neither of knowing what to say. Jean’s gaze never leaves my hand, and my hand never leaves his. His mouth hasn’t closed, and his eyes are still dilated. His breath is coming in short gasps. If my heart wasn’t hammering against my chest, I might have laughed and made a crude remark about leaving him speechless. But I’m just at a loss for words as he is. 

“Um,” he says, finally. At least it isn’t a scream. “You’re… you’re a Flamer?” 

“Yeah,” I reply, confusion etched into my voice. Who calls us Flamers anymore? I’ll take it over hot-head or fire freak any day. 

I’ve never given much thought to being a Clair. It was just always something I was, and I always had to be careful. I’ve always lived a cautious life because of it. The dangers were always an ever present being that plagued my very existence. Still, I never let it control my life. I was always worried, sure, but I’ve never let it control me like this. I mean, other people have it worse than me, right? Look at the other three types of Clairs. 

You got your Icers, Clevers, Flamers, and Shadows. All slang, of course. There’s some scientific names for them, but I’ve never taken the time to memorize them. I could go into details about what they all do, and how all of this works, but I’ll paraphrase for now because my life is currently on the line here, and I don’t have time to be Mr. Expositions. Flamers, like me, can control fire. I just got the shit-end of the stick, and my body decides to erupt into flames when I’m angry. It’s crap, I know. Icers are like flamers, except the exact opposite. They control the cold. Simple, right? Clevers are smart. Period. Their just really, really smart. And Shadows are a bit of a different story. Their powers aren’t… easy to explain. I’m not even sure what they do. No one’s seen any since the initial outbreak. I assume it has something to do with shadows, given their name. What is – 

“Well this is a bit awkward.” My head snaps to Jean. Have I really just spaced out this entire time? Without a second thought, I slam him against the alley wall. Arm pressed against his throat, I use my other hand to cover his mouth, just in time to muffle the scream working its way passed his lips. 

“Jean,” there’s venom lacing that one word. I do my best to convey my threat through that one word. All the years of carefulness into one word. His name. One word. All the years of pain and hardship. One. Word. 

I feel something wet against my hand, and yank my arm back in surprise. “Did you just lick me, you ass crack?” I press my arm tighter against his throat. I look at his face, and all I see is a stupid grin. Giggles erupt from his mouth. I can feel the vibrations against my arm. He’s laughing now, trying to double over and hold his gut, but is held in place by me. 

“Jesus Christ, Yeagar,” he says between bouts of laughter. His smile is annoying and moronically stupid, but something about it shouts out to me to let go. So, I do. 

He falls onto his knees, laughing all the way down. “You’re a Clair,” he shouts, still giggling on the dirty alley floor. I feel like kicking him. You don’t just yell that, you fucktard. 

“What are you laughing about? This isn’t something to laugh about, horseface,” I hiss through gritted teeth. Seriously, I think I might prefer him to scream and run away in terror. Anything but this incessant laughing. 

“Not only a Clair,” he says, ignoring my comment, “but a fucking Flamer.” He smacks his hand against the ground, like he thinks this is the funniest thing in the world. He’s laughing at me, and that just pisses me off all over again. I feel my fingers spark with heat, and I know it’s about to happen for a fucking second time. 

I’m not the only one who realizes this because at the very second my fingers spark, Jean’s laugher ceases immediately. “Wanna tell me why you’re laughing?” I ask, teeth gritted, fingers sparking. 

Jean stands again, his eyes focusing on my face. At the mention of his recent laughing fit, he smiles, and I want to punch him in his stupid face. “It’s nothing, really. I just thought it was funny.” 

“Why? Why the hell would you think any of this is funny? My kind is literally outlawed! How is any of this funny?” 

He runs a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. “Well… Because…” He eyes flick to my fingers again. “Can you… do that again? Not the whole body thing, but just your finger tips?” My eyebrows furrow in confusion once again. Why the hell would Jean want me to do it again? Most people would be running away, screaming right about now. But Jean wants me to do it again? Surprised is an understatement. I’m way beyond that point. Instead, my brain is tired from the twists and turns my emotions have put it through, and I just don’t feel like questioning or arguing with Jean anymore. 

So I lift my hand and rub my thumb and forefinger together, focusing on the heat building there, and then right when the heat is getting unbearable, I snap. A small flame flickers to life on the tip of my forefinger, not unlike a birthday candle on a cake. Carefully, with a sweep around the alley to confirm we’re alone, I flick my hand and all of it is now alight with flames. 

Jean stares at it, his smile growing in size. Hesitantly, he raises his own hand to mine. Barely out of reach of the flames, his palm hovers just in front of mine. With a small smirk, he pushes our hands together. I expect him to cry out in pain. It is very real fire, after all. But he just holds his hand there, and I watch as his own hand erupts into fire. He jerks it away, now having his own flames washing his hand in brilliant light. He waves it in front of my face. 

I don’t believe it. There’s no fucking way that Jean Kirstein is a fucking – 

“I found it so unbelievably funny because there’s no way in hell that Eren fucking Yaegar is a hot-head like me.” 

He shakes the flames out, his smirk never leaving his face. “Of course, I can’t spontaneously combust like you can. I need a flame that’s already there for me to control it.” 

I just stare. Words escape me even now. I’m usually quick to shoot a comeback or some sarcastic remarks, but right now the only thing I can say is, “I need a drink.” And I turn on my heels and walk out of the alley, Jean trailing close behind me. 

Armin and Mikasa are never going to believe me.


	2. Ghosts of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin knows everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooo another chapter up so soon? Yes! I just can't stop writing this fic. It's insane. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left a Kudos! You guys are amazing. Thank you so much!
> 
> Comments and criticism are appreciated! 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter :D

Somehow, I made it back to the apartment without too many glances. The ones who did look at me and my scorched shirt, I simply smiled brightly at Jean and winked at the passerby. Confused and uncomfortable, they didn’t look my way again. My apartment, which I shared with Armin and Mikasa, was in the shady part of Shiganshina. Shabby apartment buildings and crummy, run-down shops line the street in an odd, disorderly rows. As we draw closer to the place I call home, I can see Jean starting to fidget beside me. I know he lives in the North part of town. The upper-middle class part, so I imagine this is a nice change of scenery for him.

            I don’t even know why he’s following me to my apartment, to be honest. We never agreed to this, did we? I just turned on my heels and started walking, and Jean started following. Maybe this is good. Maybe Armin and Mikasa will believe me if they actually see the proof in front of them. I was still trying to wrap my head around it myself. _Jean,_ a _flamer?_ Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have believed it either if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.     

            “So,” Jean says, trying to start up a conversation that I really don’t want to have right now. Can I at least get a couple shots in before you go asking questions? “Does Mikasa know?” I roll my eyes, rubbing my face with my hands. What a typical question. One I refuse to answer until we get back to the apartment, and he can ask all the questions he wants. He seems to get the hint because he doesn’t say anything about my lack of a reply. Instead we just easily slip into the shabby one-room apartment easily. Glancing at the clock before slipping off my shoes, I note that the time is almost five thirty. Armin should be home by now, and Mikasa should be on her way.

            “I’m home!” I call out, listening as my voice echoes throughout the house. I turn to Jean, motioning for him to follow me into the kitchen. It’s drab, like the rest of the apartment. Beige walls and wood flooring assaulting the eyes of anyone who can see. It’s not exactly what I had in mind when I was little and daydreaming of the perfect house. But we have a roof over our head, and a place to cook somewhat edible meals. The yellowish refrigerator still works, and I’m glad for it when I open it and pull out two beers. I toss one over my shoulder, hoping Jean has enough wits to catch it. Thank god he does, I don’t know what I’d do if I had to spend the next thirty minutes cleaning up alcohol and glass from the floor.

            Jean nods his thanks and just stands awkwardly by the counter. “Eren?” Armin says as he walks into the kitchen. His eyes land on Jean, and then sweep back towards me. His nose twitches, and that’s when I know that he knows all that happened. “Jean.” He acknowledges, without looking over to him. Jean looks taken aback by Armin’s attitude, like he thinks he did something wrong. But I know that it’s not exactly that. Armin saw something more, and it’s making him tense.

            “Uh,” I start, “how was your day?” I pop open the top of the beer and take a swig.

            “Are you kidding me, Eren?” He snaps, eyes narrowing. Poor Jean almost chokes on his beer. Him, having only known us for about a year now, hasn’t seen Armin when he gets stressed or angry. Well… that’s about to change. Because Armin is practically fuming. “How can you be so foolish? No! Don’t answer that! You’re always this foolish. Do you know what could’ve happened if you’d been caught? You’d be dead, and so would me and Mikasa right about now.” I look down at my feet in shame. How could I have been so careless? It wasn’t just my life on the line right now. If the MPs found out I was living with Armin and Mikasa, they’d have no problem shooting them for simply harboring a fugitive. They wouldn’t even care if they were also fugitives, and they wouldn’t ask either. Shame bubbles up in my chest, and I can feel my cheeks heat up and my eyes burn with tears I refuse to shed. I can feel Armin’s stare on me, and I want nothing more than to just hug him and apologize. However, now’s not the time. Armin’s scolding isn’t done yet.

            He turns on his heels and looks directly at Jean. “And you. What were you thinking? Running after him and pushing him down! Showing him _your_ Clair while in the middle of an alley? Anyone could’ve seen you! Do you understand? You’d be dead, too, and most likely Marco as well! Did you ever think about him?” Jeans eyes are wide once again. His brow furrowing with confusion. He’s most likely asking himself questions such as: _How does Armin know all of this? What is going on? How would Armin know about Marco?_ Obvious, run-of-the-mill, boring questions. Wait… Who’s Marco? _I_ don’t even know who that is. Jesus, Armin must’ve seen a lot today.

            Jean’s stuttering, trying to make his lips move and form words with his tongue, but nothing seems to come out other than, “C-clever?”

            Armin huffs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Yeah, Jean, I’m a Clever. And it appears that I’m _cleverer_ than you. You both are idiots.” A pout crosses his face, and I know now’s the safest time to start answering (as well as asking) questions.

            But Jean beats me to it.

            “How…?” Jean stares at Armin, looking for something, the Clair, as if it’s visible. He seems a little more shell-shocked then he was with me. At least he’s not laughing. Smart man.

            “I saw it,” Armin says, rubbing his eyes with his hands, “but obviously, the future I saw never happened.” And that’s the thing with Armin. He sees many different possible futures, and he has no way of knowing if they’re the ones that are going to happen or not. Any little thing can mess up destiny, he always says. A coffee spill, deciding to take the scenic route to work, forgetting to put on deodorant. Anything can change the future because the future isn’t set in stone.

            “What did you see, Arm,” I ask, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. If he’s acting like this then I can’t imagine what he saw. I’ve never seen him _this_ riled up before. Sure, when Armin wants to get angry, he’s _angry._ But this seems different, _feels_ different, and I don’t know if I want to know the truth or not.

            “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t happen. Everything’s fine.” He took a deep breath, and it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself rather than me. Jean’s still staring expectantly at the two of us, like we’re some sort of freak show. A show he’s a part of now, I might add. But this is everyday life for us. This is hardly anything out of the ordinary.

            “…okay,” Jean says finally. “This has all been fun, and I’m glad to know I’m not the only hot-head around here-“ I openly glare at him. “-but this is insane. How have you guys managed to keep this quiet for so long? I mean, I just had to look after myself, which is easy. You… you guys had to look out for each other. Doesn’t that get, I don’t know, hard? And what does Mikasa think of all of this?”

            I glance out of the corner of my eye to see Armin staring down Jean and then looking over to me. He wants me to explain his entire situation to him, and honestly I just want to go to bed. I’ve had enough of the horsefaced asshat to last a lifetime, and I don’t want to spend another second talking to him.

            But he and Armin are looking at me so _expectantly._ It’s kind of hard to plan a great escape when you’re supposed to reveal your deepest darkest secrets to the guy who attacked you not an hour ago.

            “Mikasa is…” I look at the clock. Mikasa’s late is what she is. If I can just stall until she gets here that’d be great, but I have no idea when she’s going to get home. It should be any minute now, and then I can leave her to face the awkwardness that is Jean Kirstein. Besides, is it really that wise to out Mikasa when she’s not even-

            The door creaks open, in trails my sister. Her red scarf is wrapped tightly around her neck, and her straight black hair looks mussed by the wind outside. She sets down her bag on the kitchen chair, eyes droopy. She doesn’t give Jean a second glance, but instead heads right toward me and wraps her arms around me. There’s a chill that goes through me, and I can tell that Mikasa is upset. Her hands are like ice, the cold bleeding into my shirt. Her breath chilly against my chest. She must seriously be upset, and I already know the source of her odd behavior. “You told Mikasa what you saw, but you didn’t tell me.” I try to give Armin my best glare, but it falters when I hear Mikasa sniffle. Whatever Armin saw, I definitely don’t want to know.

            “You’re such an idiot,” I hear Mikasa say, muffled thought it was. She then pulls away abruptly, acknowledging Jean with only a nod, and leaving without saying a word. Well, there goes my knight in a red scarf. Looks like I’ll have to explain to Jean who looks even more confused now then he did a couple minutes ago. A feat I thought impossible until now.

            “Mikasa’s an Icer,” I say, hoping that Jean doesn’t fucking faint in the middle of our kitchen. Unsurprisingly, he grabs the mostly full beer bottle from where he put it on the counter earlier and chugs ¾ of it.

            “All of you,” he says a while after he’s done with the beer. “All of you are Clairs. All this time, and I didn’t even know.” Jean runs a hand through his hair, and I kind of felt bad for him. Here we were, all of us just like him, and he had no idea.

            “If it makes you feel any better, Jean, we had no idea about you either,” Armin offers with an apologetic smile. That only earns a harsh laugh from the idiot.

            “It doesn’t, but thanks, Armin.” The smile is wiped from his face when he turns toward me. “How did you guys meet? I mean all of you are Clairs, and you just, what, stumbled upon each other by accident?”

            “Yes,” me and Armin said at the same time. The story, which I can still remember very clearly, is kind of like this one actually. I’d gotten in a fight when I was… nine? Ten? Okay, so maybe I don’t remember it very clearly, but the point is that Armin saw it happen before it did, and stopped me from outing myself to a bunch of no good douche bags. And he told me straight up that he was a Clair, already knowing that I was too. We’ve been best friend’s ever since.

            Mikasa’s a different story entirely. Her parents were killed by the MPs for being Clairs, and we found her on the streets, hiding. My dad, one with visions just like Armin, insisted that we take her in and raise her like our own. And she’s been my sister every since.

            It’s been just the three of us for a long time. After my parents died, Mikasa and I went to live with Armin and his grandfather. That was almost seven years ago. Now, it’s just me, Mikasa, and Armin against the world. Hiding in plain sight and trying our best to survive everyday without being found out. It’s hard, without a doubt, and I don’t think I would’ve survived on my own. These two have always been around, and I still can’t believe how lucky I am that Jean is a Clair, too. Out of all the fights I could have picked that, out of all the people to get in fights with, I had to pick another fucking Flamer. And I just _had_ to go and lose control like that. What am I? Some snotty-nosed brat, fighting in the schoolyard? Yeah, right. I thought I had better control than this.

            “Well, this has been super fun, but I really have to get back to Marco now. He’ll be wondering where I am.” Jean’s face is red, and I can’t tell why. Maybe it’s the way Armin is looking at him, all smirk and raised eyebrows. Jean just turns around and walks out of the room, not even saying goodbye.

            “Good luck tonight, Jean,” Armin calls out, his smile evident in his voice. “See you in the morning… maybe.” The last word he whispers to himself, and I realize that I’m so _lucky not_ to be a Clever.

           

It’s my turn on the couch, tonight. Armin and Mikasa sharing the one room with two beds in it. I don’t think I’d mind the couch so much if I didn’t have to sleep on it for a week and if it wasn’t so lumpy.

            Tossing and turning, I know that I’m not going to get any sleep tonight. My head is reeling, begging me to just sit down and think everything out, including Jean and Armin’s vision. I don’t want to _think_ about it all because if I think about it, I’ll _over think._ But I know that I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep. My heart’s pounding wildly in my chest with anxiety. _What did Armin see to make him act like that? What if someone did see us? What if the MPs are on their way over here right this instant?_

            See? Over thinker #1 at your service, causing anxiety for the past seven years. Seriously, I wasn’t always like this. I used to be carefree and loud. I’m still loud, but shut up. My point is that I’m less… adventurous. Is that the right word, I want to use? I think so. I’m so caught up in my own head, and I’m so worried about someone finding us. I got lucky today, _very_ lucky, and I’m determined never to let it happen again.

            My head falls into my hands as I let out a loud groan. How stupid can I get?

            “E-Eren?” I hear a loud sniffle, and look up just to in time to see Armin stumbling for the couch. He looks like he’s about to fall over, so I fly from the couch to hold on to him. Making sure he doesn’t fall. Gently, I lead him toward the couch. His short blond hair is wild from sleep, and I can see tears trekking down his cheeks, leaving wet trails down his pink cheeks.

            He collapses onto the couch. Immediately, my mind heads in the _horrible vision from the future Gods_ direction, but Armin’s _never_ acted like this out of vision. That sends my mind into _nightmare_ territory, which is obviously a bit better to handle. I sit down beside him, not speaking, just stroking his hair and whispering reassuring words. His breathing turns from sharp gasps to light hyperventilating to even and slow. I think it’s safe to ask now.

            “What happened, Armin?” My voice is shaky and low, and I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer, but if it’ll help me help him then what choice do I have? “Was it another vision?” Hesitance is very evident in my words, and I can’t help but cringe at the way they come out. Armin doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in his own thoughts.

            “I don’t know,” he says. I can hardly make it out; he’s so quiet. There’s a scratchy quality to his voice, and it tears my heart in two. “I can’t tell if it was a vision or just a regular nightmare.” He’s shaking again, but shaking is definitely better than sobbing. He sniffles once more, and continues. “Regardless, I have to tell you something. I don’t know if it’s real or not, but you have to know… Just in case.” He pulls away from me, my arm falling to my sides. My hearts beating loudly in my chest now. Dread pounding in my ears. I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to remain my ignorant, Flamer self, who lights himself on fire when he gets angry. That’s who I am. I am _not_ someone who should be trusted with any information whatsoever, and that includes information of a possible future.

            “Go to Building 4, apartment 77. It should be on the top floor. It’ll be safe, Eren. Don’t leave until you know it’s safe.”

            Confusion courses through me, and I’m fidgeting in my seat. “When do I go?” Armin looks at me, his eyes softening with sadness, and he gives me a small smile, offering me all the little comfort of it.

            “You’ll know,” is all he says. He gets up from the couch, not shaking anymore. He’s heading back to his room, when he stops and turns to me. “And, Eren?” I tilt my head toward him and hum, letting him know that I’m listening despite all the thoughts that threaten to distract me from him.

            “When the time comes, leave me here.”


	3. An Angel Stuck in Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco is an angle.
> 
> Jean's an ass.
> 
> Eren's anxiety is pissing him off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD 
> 
> You guys are seriously the most amazing people ever!! The comments and the kudos *screams* 
> 
> I'm so happy people are actually reading this. You guys are so amazing that I might actually die. 
> 
> But before I do that. Have another chapter. There's still no real update schedule, but I'll try to post a chapter every week or every other week. I'm working on some other projects, but so far this one is the my top priority at the moment. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!! :D

It’s been one week without any incident, _thank god._ Armin’s words that night haven’t left me. In fact, they’ve been the cause of my anxiety and sleepless night for the course of this whole week. When I tried to ask him about it the morning after, he looked at me like I had three heads, and told me he didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. I haven’t asked him about it since, but even I can’t understand what’s happening. Armin’s supposed to be the smart one around here, and it’s not like him to _forget_ a vision. Unless, it wasn’t a vision, and it was some very realistic night terror. Unless, he’s just acting like he forgot so I wouldn’t ask any more questions.

            Do you see my problem here? Over thinking and Armin’s stupid visions don’t go great together, especially when said blonde coconut head won’t give me any _answers._ I can feel the anxiety eating away at me, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s hiding. And that also entails, but is not limited to hiding my emotions.

            “Hey, Eren, what’s wrong?” _Well, shit._ Never mind. Mikasa’s looking at me with that expression that tells me that I won’t be able to hide anything from her, and in the back of my mind I wonder how I should bring up the situation that’s been plaguing me for a week.

            “It’s nothing, Mika,” I say, hoping that the situation will be dropped, but knowing that my hopes are futile. I get a scoff as a reply, but I know that the situation will be brought up later when we’re currently not sitting in a very _open,_ very _public_ cafe. She has no room to push, knowing that I’ll likely throw a tantrum and attract attention. No, she’ll save this conversation for later, tonight when we’re back in the safety of our crappy apartment.

            She glances at the watch on her wrist, and before I can see the time, she says, “They were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” Her voice is level and calm, never deviating from its default. It impresses me how she can be so calm, _all the time._ As her brother, you’d think I’d get used to it, but it never ceases to amaze me and leave me so utterly dumbfounded.

            Armin graces the awkward tension with his reply, “Maybe, they’re running a little late.” There’s a blush on his cheeks, and his wide blue eyes are almost bulging out of his head. I swear, he has at least twenty visions a day, and by the way he’s acting, he doesn’t agree with the amount. Armin’s clair doesn’t have to be visible for me to tell when and if he’s had a vision. Maybe we’ve been around each other that long or maybe it’s just that he’s shit at hiding it. Whatever the reason, Mikasa senses this too and hums out in amusement.

            We were supposed to be meeting up with Jean so he can finally introduce us to Marco - who we’ve been dying to meet - but it appears that they are running a little _late._ I’m going to have to kick his ass later, but I can only find myself to be slightly amused at the insinuation none of us has to make. This should be an interesting conversation…

            If they ever decide to show up!

            We’re rounding on the half-hour mark when the two in question decide to grace us with their presence. They’re both out of breath, and Jean’s face is flushed with exertion. The unrecognizable person beside him must be Marco. With short black hair, freckles, and a small quirk of the lips, Marco is goddamn gorgeous. Brown eyes stare at the three of us, curiosity peaked, and his lips turn into a full smile. Yep, I am gay, and Marco is doing nothing but confirming that.

            But something seems super _wrong_ with this picture, and just as my eyes land on the dual-hair colored boy, everything seems to go hazy from my confusion. _Marco? With Jean?_ That’s what’s wrong. I haven’t even talked to Marco yet, and I’m wondering how the hell they ended with each other. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jean’s a total tool, and Marco seems like… well he seems like a pretty decent (looking) person. Maybe he’ll sit down and make a liar out of me. Maybe Marco will sit down, open his mouth, and have a load of bullshit spew out.

            Either way, it’s very obvious that Marco is _off limits,_ if the look Jean is giving me is anything to go by. If I wasn’t sure of their relationship before, I definitely am now. Thanks, Jean.

            “Hey, Jean!” Armin greets cheerfully, standing up so that he can probably shake hands with Marco. Armin’s gaze turns to the brown-eyed angel, and he puts on his most comforting smile. “You must be Marco, right?” After a hesitant nod, Armin extends his hand. Fucking called it. Marco looks at it - probably unsure of what the hell it means - but to my surprise he takes it and shakes firmly. Handshakes have been outdated for centuries. They were an old, weird way of greeting people. I mean, seriously, it’s like germ central, but I guess Armin’s old fashioned like that. And as long as I don’t have to shake his hand, why not watch and see how people indulge him?

            Before I know it, Jean and Marco have pulled up to other chairs to our table, and Armin has sat back down again. Is that my cue to speak? “This is Eren,” Armin says for me, rudely cutting off the grand introduction I had planned.  Marco pointed that award-winning smile my way, and it only grew when he saw that I wouldn’t be offering up my hand the way Armin had. His eyes turned to Mikasa, and I could only assume that she’d been introduced as well. Hm. Why didn’t I hear anything? Probably deafened by Marco’s gorgeous fucking face. God dammit, I’m not supposed to be spacing out. This is fucking serious. _Pull yourself together, Yeager._

I look over at Armin to see him spouting about how he’s so glad to meet Marco, _finally._ And now he’s apologizing for me and Mikasa because we don’t talk too much and “are weird with people.” To which, I take very much offence. Marco’s just nodding along, that ray of sunshine some may call a smile never leaving his face.

            “So how did you two meet?” Armin asks, although I already have an inkling of suspicion that he already knows the answer. I turn toward Jean, choosing not to voice any of my concerns and instead await the answer. Okay, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m definitely the most curious one in the room. I seriously can’t be the only one who’s wondering how a beautiful boy like Marco could end up with the Horseface of Notre Dame over here. (You might think I’m really smart for that reference, but Armin made me read the book with him when we were thirteen. Said something about it being _centuries_ old. Like, that’s cool and all, Armin, but can we please go climb a tree or something.)    

            I only notice now that Jean’s face has a distinct blush on it, and he’s floundering for words. Luckily, for Jean, his angel comes to his rescue. “Well, that’s actually a really funny story,” Marco's clear voice sounds. He’s also blushing, and his smile has turned into a goofy grin. “We met in Trost.” Trost is up North. I've never been there, but it’s the city for the ridiculously wealthy. Tall skyscrapers and all that rot. Nightclubs up the wazoo, and so many damn tourist attractions. I am not a tourist, to say the least. Is Marco ridiculously wealthy? Is Marco a tourist? _Sh, Eren, listen._ Yeah, thanks inner Armin.

            “I was working in a food truck at the fair there-” Mental note: Marco is probably not ridiculously wealthy if he works in a food truck. “-and all of a sudden, I hear sirens. Usually in Trost there aren’t that many crimes, and such an oddity to see a _fire._ ” His eyes narrow as he says the last word, and his stare locates Jean in the seat beside him. To which the former just shrinks in his seat a little. Armin lets out a small giggle, and motions for Marco to continue. “I thought something was seriously wrong,” Marco resumes the story. “And then this lunatic-” he gestures toward Jean, “-breaks right into the food truck. His clothes and hair were singed, and he was panting like a dog. Said something about needing a place to hide.” Marco’s eyes grow glassy as he speaks, like he’s recalling a rather fond memory. “I’m not stupid. I knew what he was the minute he almost broke the door down, and I knew that the sirens were only coming after him for _whatever_ he did.” He leans forward as he says the next part. “I know what they do to Clairs. It’s not right. I was privileged enough to be born into a society that didn’t hate who I was, so why not use that privilege to help to people who don’t have such a luxury?” He leans back in his seat, and I’m fairly certain that I’ve fallen in love with this gift from heaven. “So, I tell him to hide, the cops show up, their stomachs almost as big as their egos. They ask if I’ve seen him. I say no. Simple. Easy peasy. And I’ve been looking out for this one ever since.” His gaze lands on Jean, and his smile falls into something more serene looking. Almost like he’s seeing something wonderful for the first time.

            And in this moment, I figure out what love looks like, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. Armin’s giggling beside me like some school girl, and even Mikasa’s stoic expression softens into something that almost resembles a smile.

            “Jeez, Marco, you make it sound so normal,” Jean says, face in his hands as he attempts to hide the blush that we all see. “I was _scared,_ you ass. I didn’t know who you were. I thought that you’d turn me in as soon as the police came knocking.”

            Marco rolls his eyes; the lovely atmosphere moments ago being replaced with a playful, airy one. And Marco launches into another story about the time Jean almost burned down their house.

            Armin shares some stories from our youth, ranging from the time I challenged Mikasa to an arm wrestling match - which resulted is a burned/frozen table - to when Armin used his visions to see what I was getting for my birthday, only to refuse to tell me when he did figure it out. We laugh and tell stories in our little corner until the sun begins to sink lower in the horizon, and we’re forced to call it a night.

            When we get back to the apartment, it’s almost ten. It’s my last night on the couch, and I can’t be happier. Armin gives me and Mikasa a wave goodnight and heads into the bedroom, no doubt going to bed early. Mikasa hovers in the doorway that connects the living room to the kitchen. I know she wants to talk about the conversation we had earlier. So, I scoot over on the couch and pat the space beside me, signaling that I want her to sit down so I can get this over with and spend my last night on the couch in peace.

            She sits on the offered spot that I’ve provided, shuffling a little to get comfortable. “So what’s been bothering you?” She asks, blunt as ever.

            “It’s nothing, Mikasa. Really,” I try, but I know she’ll want more answers. She gives me a look to confirm my suspicions. “Armin just had a bad dream one night and told me some things. I think he thought it might’ve been a vision, but Armin doesn’t remember anything. So…” I trail off, unable to voice my concerns properly.

            “What did he tell you?”

            “He told me that if it was real, that I was supposed to go to Building 4, apartment 77. It’s on the top floor. He told me not to leave until it was safe to do so.” I didn’t want to leave out the part where Armin told me to leave him behind, but I did anyway, for some stupid reason. “But Armin _never_ forgets a vision. I tried asking him about it the next morning, and he had no idea what I was talking about.”

            Mikasa stares at me quizzically, trying to process and make out all that I have revealed. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. And, surprisingly, she just says, “Okay, I understand, now.” And she gets up and walks to the bedroom. And although I’m more confused and anxious than ever now, I’m fine with it because this horrible, lumpy couch has my name written all over it.

 

When I wake up, the sun is loudly glaring at me through the window. The smell of bacon is assaulting my nose and begging me to just _wake up already._ Pulling myself off the couch, I make my way to the kitchen, and to my surprise, it’s not Mikasa making breakfast. Armin is standing over the stove, stirring cheese into the scrambled eggs. His short blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and the sleeves of his blue cardigan are rolled up to his elbows.

            “Good morning, Eren,” he greets cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

            I nod, despite my aching back, and take a seat at the small kitchen table that only has two chairs. Good thing we never use it. “Where’s Mikasa?” I ask, trying to cover my yawn with a question.

            “She went out. Said something about hanging out with Annie today.” Ah, yes. Annie: the blonde Mikasa. I swear the two girls are actually the same person. I thought people didn’t get along if they were too much alike, but Annie and Mikasa seem determined to prove me wrong. Jerks.

            “That makes sense,” I reply instead. “She hasn’t seen Annie in a couple of weeks, so it’s about time she cracked.” Armin only grins at my words as he plates the cheesy eggs. He sets one plate in front of me and takes the other chair. I dig in, unaware of how hungry I am.

            “Hey, Armin?” I ask through a mouthful of breakfast.

            “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Armin scolds. “What is it?”

            I quickly swallow, wanting to get what was on my mind off of it. “Do you remember anything about what you told me that night?” There’s a hint of desperation in my voice, and I want to slap myself for it. Am I really that desperate? I just want to stop feeling so anxious about this. I want to stop worrying so much about _all of this._

_And I am not desperate, at all._

           Armin’s looking at me with that face. I hate that face. His mouth is twisted in a grimace, his smooth face creased with worry lines. His eyes threaten to scrunch shut, but he wills them to stay open. Armin’s worrying about something, and the better part of me wants to comfort him, but the other, lesser part, wants answers more. Enough so that I stay in my seat and wait for them. I know, I know. I’m an awful person. Blah, blah, blah.

“Obviously, I remember talking to you about it,” Armin said, his face twisting into a frown. “Kind of, but I don’t remember the dream itself. I was just so upset when I woke up that I had to talk to you. I don’t even remember what we talked about. I can’t remember any details. I was half-delirious with sleep. Please, don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Well… that’s not what I expected when I said I wanted answers. I was thinking more along the lines of, “ _We’re all going to die and there’s nothing we can do about it.”_ But I think I like this answer a whole lot more.

But I can’t leave it there, not when everything seems too _okay_ for once. “You said to go to a building when the time was right. Building 4, apartment 77. You said not to leave until I knew it was safe…” I stop, watching Armin’s face go white. His eyes are shut now, and he’s shaking his head furiously, muttering, _no, Eren, stop._ “You said to leave you here.”

His eyes fly open when there’s a sound at the door. It’s loud, obnoxious, and obviously Jean. The fucker. I stand up at the same time Armin does. His face is still as white as a sheet, and his eyes look glassy and distant. “Are you done?” He asks pointing to my plate. I nod and step passed him, heading for the door.

I really don’t want to deal with Jean this early in the morning, but ever since we figured out each other’s deepest, darkest secrets, he’s been spending a lot of time over here. We don’t really do anything but talk anymore. I haven’t even _tried_ to pick a fight.

The knocking on the door grows louder as I near. “I’m coming. Hold your _horses._ ” I giggle a bit. Horse jokes never get old when you’re around Jean. My hand's on the doorknob, slowly turning it, when I come to a startling realization.

_Jean never knocks._

But it’s too late to do anything because the door is flying open, and I’m staring down the barrel of a gun.


	4. The Door He Opened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But it’s too late to do anything because the door is flying open, and I’m staring down the barrel of a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I'm sorry this took FOREVER~~
> 
> I'll try not to let it happen again :D 
> 
> *trigger warning: there wil be guns, blood, and violence in this chapter. It also plays into the main theme of this story. If it bothers you, I suggest not reading any further. I will post relevant tags as the story continues**
> 
> ENJOY CHAPTER FOUR

My heart beats in my chest like a drum.  _ Ba boom. Ba boom. Ba-  _ It’s lodged in my throat. My breath has a hard time making its way passed my lips. There’s a haze around the corner of my vision as all the blood pumps to my head, making me sway. There’s no way this can be happening, but there it is. The horrible barrel of the gun pointing down at me, offending me with its existence. Is it going to be this weapon that kills me? Or will it be the knife of a surgeon bent on cutting me open and seeing how I tick?

But it’s not the gun that will kill me. It can’t be. It has to be the handler of such a weapon. It had to be a person that ends me. A gunshot wound may be my cause of death, but it certainly won’t be the thing that kills me. The person holding the gun has donned all black. I can’t even tell if it’s a man or woman, due to the black gas mask that covers their face. There’s only one spot of color on the forearm of their uniform. The patch has a green horse with a horn shooting out of its forehead. It stands out like a sore thumb against the pure darkness that makes up their uniform. The Military Police weren’t ones for style, and it doesn’t take a genius (or a Clair) to figure that out.

The gun swings toward the kitchen, motioning for me to back up. _Do I really have a choice, other than to obey?_ I feel my heart beating faster than it should, and I can feel my fingernails digging into the palm of my hand. They would draw blood if my fingers would just _stop shaking._ I turn my back to them, which isn’t the smartest idea, and walk toward the kitchen. Mindful not to trip over my own feet, I glance down at the floor. It's still the horrible wood that I’ve grown to hate. Only in this moment, I realize that I’ve taken it for granted. I won’t need a floor if all the horror stories I’ve ever heard about the MPs are true. All I’ll need is a body bag if they go to that much trouble.

The whole apartment is quiet as five MPs file into it. Armin is still sitting by the kitchen sink. His eyes aren't wide enough for the situation that’s going on around him. He’s seen all this before, right? Bitterness is what I want to be feeling toward my best friend. Only, all I feel is fear as his words echo around in my head from almost a week ago.

_ Leave me here. _

Everything’s falling into place now. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. We’re going to die here in this crappy room that I’ve hated up until now. I look over to the door that’s been left open and notice how easy it would be to just _run._ The only problem with that is the five bodies holding gun blocking the way to freedom, and the fact that Armin is still in the room. My eyes glance over to the poor excuse of a door hanger and notice that Mikasa forgot her scarf. It’s cold out, she should have her scarf.

Mikasa.

What’s she going to do? Is she going to come home and find the apartment trashed? Is she going to see  blood gracing the beige walls? Is she going to see our bodies littering the floor that I hate and love at the same time? Is she going to come home early and walk right into the middle of all this? If the panic wasn’t already evident in my twitching form, it is now. My whole body shakes and hurts with a feeling I can only describe as dread. I can’t lose Mikasa or Armin. I can lose myself, die here in my home, but I _cannot_ lose them.

Something changes then. I’m not sure what. My hands stop shaking, and I vow to myself that I will do everything in my power to make sure that all them get out alive. I’d like to get out of this myself, but I’m not getting hopeful right now. I’m accepting the fact that I’m going to die, and anything short of that will be a miracle.

“Both of you,” a voice says. It's the one in the front. The one that’s currently holding us at gunpoint. It’s a girl, I’m certain now. “Sit.” It’s a command, one I don’t question and take my seat at the dinner table. I’m trying to delay the inevitable. Hey, I said I was accepting it; I didn’t say I was happy about it. Plus, I have to buy time, think of a plan to get Armin out.

Armin’s a bit more hesitant. He’s plastered on a fake smile, not moving from his place. He turns back to washing the dishes, and I can’t stop my mouth from falling open. _What is he doing? Is he insane? Armin, sit your perky ass down._ Armin doesn’t seem to hear my silent pleas, and instead says, “What’s going on here, officer?” His voice is chipper like he’s talking about how nice the weather’s going to be this weekend. He doesn’t seem to be phased by the presence of the fucking _Military Police._ Maybe he’s doing the same as I am? Buying time. Maybe he’s holding on to some hope that they don’t have any proof against us. They can’t kill us without undisputable proof, right?

“Armin Arlert, is that correct?” A different officer inquires, a male. He walks up behind Armin, and I want to shout. No one is _that_ uniform needs to be anywhere near my friend, and there’s dread in my stomach. Twisting its way up my throat and threatening to eject the eggs I had not fifteen minutes earlier.

Armin wipes his wet hands on his pants. He turns around while saying, “Yes, that’s-!” There’s an audible _crack_ as the hilt of the gun smashes against the side of Armin’s head. I can’t help the sound that comes out of me then. Screaming his name, I go to stand up, only to have the muzzle of a gun shoved in my face for the second time that day. I have no choice. I have to stay in place.           

Armin’s on the ground, unconscious from the well-placed blow to his temple. I look for any sign that he’s bleeding and that the injury is as bad as it looks. Luckily there’s no blood, and I count that as a small victory on our part.

The woman drops her gun away from my face and pulls down her gas mask. She has a long, ugly face and small, beady eyes that narrow when her gaze focuses on me. “Eren Yeager?” I nod, too numb to the situation to do anything else. “Harper, Morrison, search the rest of the residence.” Two of the officers leave from the little cluster gathered in the kitchen. They take off to search the rest of the small apartment. I know they won’t find anything, and it gives me a sick sort of pleasure. Maybe there is hope for us? No there can’t be. Why would they’ve knocked Armin out? What point did that serve? Armin didn’t even do anything. My nails have broken through the first layer of skin, and instinctively, I hiss in pain. I don’t care if they kill me right now. I don’t care that I’ll never see Mikasa, Jean, or Marco again. All I care about is getting Armin out, and he’s currently incapacitated.

The only way to get him out is to get me out as well. I’ll have to carry him away from here if that’s what it takes

The determination is back, and the woman is still talking. She’s entered a formal kind of spiel about rights like this is a freaking trial. We both know that I’m going to be found guilty regardless of what she says. Then, her voice drops and the words she utters sends chills throughout my entire body. “We know what you are, filthy scum, so make this easy on us and confess. We have proof. That’s why we knocked out your friend over there. Can’t have him getting into our heads and messing with us.” My eyebrows furrow. Sure Armin is a Clever, but I’ve never heard of a Clever controlling minds. I’ve never heard of a Clair controlling minds. Period. What exactly is this lady on about? “You’re going to die, regardless of what you say,” she continued. “But be honest, would you rather die without any pain and suffering? Or would you rather die slowly? After you’ve watched every single one you’ve ever cared about die around you? Bodies of friends and family being the last thing you see before we slice into that neck of yours?” My breath catches in my throat. Fear has always been a part of my vocabulary. I’ve never slept well, always plagued by nightmares of being found out and of the end that was sure to follow me. Death has always been apart my vocabulary. It’s a vicious cycle when I think about it. Always thinking of dying leads to being scared. That leads to thinking about death even more than before.

But bravery and vigilance and quick-witted are also a part of my vocabulary.

And everything is screaming at me to just _be quiet. Bide yourself time. Don’t give them anything._ So instead of answering her, I look at the smartest one in the room, and I wish beyond hope that I can get him out of here.

There’s a banging in the bedroom. It averts the woman’s attention, long enough for me to act. I don’t think. Despite every nerve in my body telling me to _just think for a second._ I can’t. It’s time. I realize that I’ve been waiting for a moment like this ever since the fucking door opened. And it’s still open, right?

I leap to my feet, kicking out the legs of the woman in front of me. Out of panic, her finger pushes against the trigger of the gun, and a shot is fired. There’s no pain. Yet, there's a ringing in my ears and my head is pounding. I know that I haven't escaped completely unscathed. I can’t let that deter me. I have to get to Armin. The woman has lost her breath as she collapses on the floor, stunned for at least a few moments. I never thought Mikasa and Annie’s self-defense lessons would be needed. That doesn't mean I’m not grateful that I paid _some_ attention.

Seconds. It’s all I have before the others realize what’s going on and reach for their guns. I think about picking up the fallen woman’s weapon, but that’ll take too much time. Instead, I launch my body forward, tackling the guard closest to Armin, the one that hit him. I hit him back, fist aflame without thinking about it. He’s burned, clawing at his face, hoping to rid the burning sensation. If he’s screaming, I can’t hear it over the incessant ringing that will _not_ stop.

_ Seconds, Eren.  _ I reach toward the third guard, intentions unclear. But, they step away from me. Instead of reaching for their gun, they lift their foot and kick me in my shoulder, pushing me backward.

The other guards that left to search the apartment, reappear back in the kitchen. They look around, trying to take in what the hell just happened. The woman has caught her breath and is reaching for the gun I’d neglected to at least kick away. This is bad. There’re five of them. There’s one of me. _Eren, you’re smarter than this. Don’t panic._

There’s only one thing I can do, and I’m not particularly happy about it. I’ll have to act fast if I want to get me and Armin out of here. Fear is no longer a part of me. The floor no longer holds any emotions for me. The walls will not be decorated in our blood, and we _will not die._

Flames erupt from my skin as I channel all my energy into making it as hot as possible. Instead of lunging for them one by one, I place my hand on the floor and watch it start to bubble and smoke. I let the flames devour the floor. I let it crawl like a panther toward the intruders. I let it wash out my vision with red and black. They’re distracted, if only for a moment.

I scramble toward Armin, not wasting a second as I lift him in my arms. He’s not _that_ heavy. Once he’s secure, I run toward the open door. I see the guards coughing and cursing and reaching for their guns. I leap over the flames, and I’m out, leaving the intruders behind.

I can smell the clean air, warm and inviting. The relief threatens to overtake me, but I’m not out of danger yet. The gunshot echoes around me like a canon promising to take down my ship. Only, it doesn’t hit me, so I keep going. I don’t know where I’m running. I don’t know where to run. The streets are going to be packed with lunch hour traffic, and there are too many eyes. Seeing, pointing, witnessing. I can’t go toward the roads.

Instead, I make my way to the fire escape that leads to a series of back alleys. Interconnected and spread out throughout the city, no eyes will see us there. Save for the few addicts and alcoholics

I start running as soon as my feet hit the pavement. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. If it wasn’t, I know I would’ve passed out from exhaustion a long time ago. Using that much power and carrying Armin would’ve drained me completely. But the adrenaline keeps me going. I weave through alley after alley, looking for something, _anything,_ that might get us out of here.

_ Building 4, Apartment 77. It should be on the top floor. _

The words almost make me stop in my tracks. I look to Armin, hoping that he hasn’t told me wrong this time. He was half-delirious with sleep. There’s no telling what he could’ve gotten wrong, but what other choice do I have? I have to keep going. I have to trust the unconscious boy in my arms.

I weave through another alley. I find the building that I pray is our safe haven. It’s obvious that I can’t go through the front way. I spot the rusty stairs to the fire escape and figure that if it worked the first time, it’ll work now.

And that’s when I notice the blood.

The sticky, red fluid slithers between my fingers, claws it’s way under my nails. It drips onto my pants and dirties my shirt with its ugly color. My stomach twists into knots when I realize it’s not my blood. A dark stain makes itself known on Armin’s right pants leg. His calf bleeding from the gunshot I hadn’t paid attention to. This only furthers my hurry as I rush up to the fire escape, climbing the rusty stairs that squeak with every step. I get to the top floor after what seems like hours. The small gray window sill looks like a gift from Heaven, and I can’t climb through it fast enough.

And the hallway looks completely deserted. This almost seems too easy, but right now the ringing in my ears is still going strong. My adrenaline is fading. Armin’s becoming heavier despite the fact that he’s losing more blood every second. The apartment is half-way down the hall, and I have no time to lose.

And now I’m standing in front of it. The two Sevens are the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Big and bold against the white door, I find that I have no idea what to do. Do I knock? _Come on, Eren. You’re worried about being polite_ now _of all times?_ Well, I can’t exactly yank open the door myself; I’m currently carrying the lifeless body of my best friend.

Instead of thinking about it any longer, I lift my foot and kick it against the hunk of wood. It creates a hollowed knocking sound, and I think that my make-shift knock will have to do. It’s the only thing I have right now, and I have no clue what I’m going to do if this doesn’t work. What if no one’s home? Do I just camp out in the hallway with a swarm of MPs after us? Do I wait for them? Should I kick down the do-?

The door swings open. In the threshold, there’s a tall blonde man with thick eyebrows and a crease in his forehead. He looks between me and Armin, blue eyes widening as his mouth works words out. But I can’t hear them.

“Help us,” I plea. I hope beyond some miracle that he won't run back inside and wave down the nearest military convoy he sees. I can’t even hear the words come out of my own mouth, so I wonder if he can distinguish the awkward mumbling. My heart’s racing in my chest, and I feel uncomfortably dizzy.

He pokes his head out in the hallway, looking around to see if we’re alone.. Hurriedly, he ushers us inside his apartment. He takes Armin out of my arms, and as soon as the weight is lifted off of me, I sway to and fro. He gives me a concerned look, but I just shake my head. I’m no worse for wear, besides the fact that my hearing seems to be temporarily fucked. He scurries into another room, and I follow behind. I don't look around the apartment. I don't snoop or get curious. My attention is focused solely on Armin and the man carrying him.

He sets Armin on the couch, rushing past me and out of the room. He’s back seconds later with what appears to be a red box with a white plus sign on it. He pulls out scissors, cutting Armin’s pants off at the knee. It’s just as I suspected. Armin was hit in the head _and fucking shot._ My skin feels hot all over, and I’m sure there’s steam coming out of my ears. The man’s looking at me, waving his hand to get my attention.

“ _What happened?”_ I can see him mouth the words slowly. Okay, so he knows I can’t hear that well.

And this is where things get tricky, right? To tell the truth or to not. If I tell him we were chased down by the MPs because we’re Clairs, he could send us on our way. Maybe he might even put a tiny red bow in our hair and turn us in to the MPs personally.

_ It’ll be safe, Eren. Don’t leave until you know it’s safe. _

When has Armin ever done me wrong?

It’s a decision I’m not capable of making. So, I just look at with my eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open. He repeats what he said. That’s when I shake my head and point to my ears. Let him think I’m deaf. That could be a good idea, right? When Armin wakes up, he can explain all this to this man, right? That’s not too selfish of me.

He seems to get the hint that I’m not going to fucking talk about what happened. So he instead points to Armin. Slowly, I can see him mouth, “Other injuries?” Oh, this son of a bitch. I’ve lived with Armin enough to know when I’m being manipulated. How do I tell him that Armin got hit in the head without revealing that I _do_ know how to read lips.

Regardless, Armin’s head needs to be looked at also, so I nod and press my palm to my temple. The ringing has stopped. I can hear the rustling beside me, and the man’s soothing words as he talks to Armin. Except everything I hear sounds like I’m hearing it from under water. At least the incessant ringing has stopped. Thank God. The man continues to blot at the wound. Using a liberal amount of what smells like antiseptic, he wraps the gauze all the way around Armin’s leg. Had the bullet gone all the way through? Why isn’t he trying to get the bullet out? “The bullet’s already out,” the man answers my unspoken inquiry. I’m left with more questions than I started with.

“He should be okay. He needs to wake up before I can look into anything else, but the bleeding’s stopped. That’s a good sign.” I nod without a word. “Eren,” the man says. I turn my head to him, and a chill goes through me. Did I ever tell him my name? I don’t fucking think so. “You don’t have to tell me anything.” I scrunch up my eyebrows, trying to make out the muffled words coming past his lips. “Because I already know what happened.” He looks over his shoulder as soon as my eyes pop open. He tries his best to give me a comforting smile. Only, that doesn’t help when your clothes are soaked in your best friend's blood. “I know you two are Clairs. I’m one, too. I’m on your side, Eren.”

“How do you know my name?” I ask, exhaustion threatening to take over any minute now.

The man only laughs. “I’m a Clever, just like this one.” He tilts his head toward the comatose blonde boy bleeding on his couch. “But my clair is different from his. I can peek into other people’s mind. I know. I know. Sounds really creepy, but I promise you that I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Erwin Smith.” He reaches out his hand, which has drying blood on it. The action is so like Armin that my heart squeezes painfully in my chest. He notices and pulls it back much to my relief.

I feel naked in the middle of Erwin’s apartment. I feel vulnerable, exposed. This man can see into my mind, know things about me that I don’t want _anyone_ to know. He seems nice enough, but how long before kindness turns to greed.

Clairs are special, that much is true, but we’re also malicious. Some of us use our differences to our advantage. We take. We win. We survive. How long before this one knows that we have nothing to offer him but grief and trouble with the law? How long before he notices that we’re of no use to him and throws us to the wolves?

“I think I have some clothes you can borrow,” he says, a bit hesitantly.

I look down at the pajamas I wore last night that is now stained with blood. It makes me sick, so I mumble out an ‘ok’ and Erwin is off in search of a new set of clothes.

And that’s when I hear the door open. An unfamiliar voice calls out, “Hey, Eyebrows! You home yet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEVI'S IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! FINALLY
> 
> Comments and Criticism are appreciated :D


	5. The Hilt of an Imaginary Knife is Also Imaginary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, Eyebrows! You home yet?"

There were two things I notice immediately. One: It’s a man’s voice at the door. Two: He’s speaking in Marian, a language that was destroyed along with its home. The only reason I know what he’s saying is because my mother was one of the few who escaped Maria and passed the language onto me before her death. I wouldn’t call myself  _ fluent,  _ but I know enough to wonder why he just shouted  _ eyebrows  _ at the top of his lungs. I mean, Erwin’s got bushy eyebrows, but we’re all living in the slums. I think it’s completely understandable why he’s not so worried about self-grooming. 

Then, the third realization hits me. I’m currently sitting two meters away, soaked in blood that’s certainly not my own. Whoever he is, he’s looking for Erwin. Wouldn’t it be a shame if he just  _ misunderstood  _ the situation? I just hope Erwin comes back soon.

In an attempt to feel less useless and small, I stand up and wait for whoever it is to just walk in. Just wait for the misunderstandings to start, and use this time to think of an explanation. I mean, I have the truth at hand, but who knows how well he’ll take  _ that.  _

And then he rounds the corner. The first thing I notice about him is his shirt. Clean, white and not something you’d usually find in this part of Shiganshina… Or in any part of Shiganshina. With the collar of it standing tall against his neck, I’m left to wonder: who the hell wears white anymore? Another sleeveless, button-up shirt is thrown over it, standing out with it’s more common, brown color. His pants are standard and black, and I find myself wondering why the hell I’m criticizing this guy’s fashion.  _ I’m not criticizing! I’m just wondering how the hell he found a stark white shirt and kept it so clean.  _

My eyes travel up to meet his, and I’m struck by the pale gray that greets me. His eyes are slanted and hooded,with dark bags underneath them, and his nose upturned and kinda small. His skin looks sallow, almost sickly pale. His black hair is tousled, falling in front of his face like the bothersome feature hair tends to be. And his cheekbones -- 

And then there’s agony. 

Before I know what’s happening, a sharp pain runs through my stomach. My breath hitches in my throat, and my breath cannot get past my lips fast enough so I can suck more air in. My vision is being blurred by tears I have yet to shed. White, searing torture. Electricity is running through my veins threatening to bring me to my knees. Sweat is beading on my forehead and vomit is rising in my throat. I want to scream, to cry out. The man that was standing in front of me is forgotten as the only sound that leaves my lips is a pathetic whimper. 

My hands fly to my stomach in an effort to try to keep my intestines inside, or at least, that’s what it feels like. Instead of my guts, I feel something long and solid sticking out of my abdomen. Sticky and slippery with blood, I don’t even try to pull out what I know is the hilt of a knife. I look down, only to confirm my suspicions that yes, the hilt is black. How original. 

Without the energy to stand, I fall to my knees rather ungracefully.  _ How the hell did a knife find it’s way into my stomach.  _ I  _ certainly didn’t put it there.  _ When I bring my fingers back to eye level, they’re coated with blood. My aching stomach does a backflip. So… is  _ this  _ how I die. Not by the MPs, or even another person. I get killed by a random knife that suddenly appeared when  _ this  _ guy shows up. 

This guy. 

He must’ve stabbed me. There’s no other explanation. I didn’t even see a knife on him, and he was standing across the room. How did  _ he  _ manage to move  _ that  _ quickly? Unless he didn’t. Did he throw the knife? I didn’t even see it. God, if Armin could see me now. 

Armin.

He’s still lying, unconscious on the couch, completely defenseless to the maniac standing in the room. He needs me. I can’t let  _ this guy,  _ as I’ve so graciously dubbed him in my bleeding, hazy frenzy, get to the one thing I’ve tried so desperately to protect. The one that I’ve failed protecting the most. The man’s not entered the room all the way, as I see, so Armin’s blocked by the wall facing him, obscured more so by the couch. I can get to him before  _ this guy  _ can. 

With the remaining strength I have, I place my blood covered hands on the floor and fucking  _ crawl  _ over to the blonde on the couch. If I die, I want to go before Armin. Is that selfish? I don’t want to see him die with me. I want to be long gone when the life leaves his eyes, and I pray that the stranger in the room grants me that mercy at least. 

It’s surreal really, to know you’re going to die. And I’ve had this feeling twice in the span of an hour. It’s like the stars have aligned into one giant middle finger directed at yours truly. And if I’m going to die, I’m going to go protecting the one thing I came here to protect. If Armin was awake right now, he’d probably be yelling at me, telling me what a suicidal bastard I am. That he can take care of himself. I have no doubt in my mind that Armin is capable of taking care of himself when he’s  _ awake,  _ but Armin’s not awake. He’s not here to yell at me. 

And that just makes my determination to make sure he lives stronger. I’ve reached the couch, and the stranger follows me curiously as if wondering how I’m still alive. My nose crinkles, and I bare my teeth, daring him to come any further. Even though my energy is draining, and the look of disgust on my face turns into a grimace of pain, I won’t stop fighting. 

The stranger holds up his hands, trying to show that he’s being friendly now. There’s a look in his eyes that can only be described as concerned, and the tilt of his head shows curiosity. I’m about to scream at him, use the last of my energy to curse him twelve ways to Sunday, but that’s the moment when Erwin decides to make his epic return. 

It’s not really that epic. He’s holding a pile of clean clothes which he instantly drops when he sees the scene in front of him. Tear are mixing with blood, and I can’t imagine what I must look like to him. However, he pays no attention to the stranger in the room and rushes past to kneel beside me on the floor. “Eren? What’s wrong?” 

_ What’s wrong? Was it not  _ obvious? Is the bloody hilt of the knife sticking out of my abdomen not enough of a red flag for you? Do you want me to shout what happened? Because I’m not sure of it myself, so ask someone else. 

Erwin turns his gaze on the stranger, anger blazing behind ice eyes. “Levi, what the hell did you do to him?” The stranger in question -- Levi -- just looks at me with slightly furrowed eyes before offering up a shrug. “Dammit!” Erwin cusses, making me jump. “I thought you would’ve had control over this by now.” 

“I panicked,” he says simply, speaking in Sinian now, a language most of the human population speaks. “If you walked into my apartment and saw some random kid covered in blood, you’d panic, too.” He has his arms crossed over his chest. He’s acting like nothing’s wrong, when I can  _ feel  _ the blood leaving my body, my heart hurling itself against my ribs, trying to supply the blood I’ve lost. 

“I would have, yes, but I don’t have… the abilities that you do. What did you do?” He’s talking through gritted teeth, and I want nothing more than to just go back home. And then I remember that the last time I saw the apartment, I’d lit it on fire. 

“I don’t know!” 

“Can you stop it?” 

“...maybe.” 

“Well, get to it. Levi, it might not be real, but it’s real to him and his mind. He can go into shock just by the thought of being injured. Do you understand? You could kill him just by making him think that he’s actually hurt.” I don’t even notice that I’d fallen backward until I feel a large hand on my back holding me up. My vision is swimming with black spots, and I can hardly hear what they’re talking about, much less try and understand it. 

Levi draws closer, and I try to scramble back in response. My hand blindly searches for Armin’s because I know that this is going to be the end. Here, in this apartment, where Armin had so desperately tried to tell me that it was safe. Levi just makes a clicking sound with his tongue, and launches the rest of the way forward, grabbing my face with his hands. Our eyes meet, and his silver eyes turn white, like snow, blocking out the iris and the pupils. It’s almost disgusting, but I don’t have time to feel disgusted because he’s talking into my ear.“Hey, you’re alright. There’s nothing there. You’re not bleeding. There’s no knife. You’re fine.” His voice has taken on an echoey quality, reverberating inside my skull, demanding that I listen to him. And as his words sink into my head, the pain in my stomach slowly disappears. The sticky feeling of blood is washed away by the sound of his voice, and my heart calms with his touch. I am fine. I’m fine. I’m okay. When he lets go I’m expecting the pain to come back, and my hot skin chases after the coldness of his fingers. 

“So, you did know what you did to him?” Erwin asks, his hand never leaving my back, not until he knows I’m going to be okay. If I weren’t so relieved that _ I’m not dying _ , I’d be confused. So, instead, I revel in the fact that I’m okay, and everything’s gonna be… OK.

“No, it was a guess,” Levi replies, hovering over me, making sure I won’t need him again. “I just thought, when I first saw him, how much I wished I had my knife on me. Then the kid doubled over. It was just a guess.” Levi backs away, his face set in a grim line of disinterest. Only his narrowed eyes give away that he’s partially annoyed. A stark difference from what I’d seen earlier. “So, do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” 

I turn to Erwin, and he turns to me. “I’d like an answer, too, please,” I say, turning my gaze to Levi. He returns my gaze with a bored stare that I find rather insulting, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because he just stabbed me -- or didn’t really stab me. 

I’m really confused.

“Change into some clean clothes, and we’ll talk.” I nod, and he helps me off of the floor. The pain I’d felt earlier is almost non-existent, and I’m left with so many questions. More questions than I’d started with. There’s an underlying sense of panic, but compared to everything else I’ve been through, this hardly seems inside the realm of “panic-material.” 

The clothes I’ve been given to change into are a big holey sweater and loose-fitting, army-green pants. It’s not my first choice, but I’d choose it over blood-stained pajama pants any day. 

When I walk back into the main room, Levi and Erwin have taken up residence at the kitchen table, completely silent. The tension in the air soaks into my skin, reminding me of the knife I’d just gotten rid of. Unspoken sentences and restrained looks are almost as tangible as the two strangers in the room. Only, they’re not the strangers. I am. I walked into this building, into this apartment, holding the body of a bleeding boy and asked to be let in. They know each other. They do not know me. I am the one that doesn’t belong. I am the stranger, and that thought does nothing to ease my nerves. 

Erwin looks up when I enter, politely giving a friendly smile, and he nods to the chair in front of him and beside Levi. The man in question turns around to look at me, face never changing, and I feel my heart race and my eyes shift. The ground looks very interesting. What kind of wood is this? It’s much nicer than the one at my apartment. You know, the one that’s probably burned to a crisp right now. 

“Eren, why don’t you sit beside me?” Erwin says. Ah, yes, mind reading. At least he didn’t call me out on my cowardice. I nod, keeping my gaze cast downward as I took a seat at the scarred kitchen table beside Erwin. Levi’s mouth stays in a firm line, saying silently that he’s not going to say anything about the last minute change, and also that he’s not going to be sharing his story first. Although, I’m not sure if I want to hear it. 

“So what the hell did I miss?” Levi asks, after an awkward moment of silence that seemed to stretch on longer than completely necessary. 

Erwin looks expectantly at me. He said he knew everything that happened, so why can’t he just inform Levi himself?

_ Because it’s your story to tell. Do you really want someone else to say it for you? How much of a coward can you be? Get a grip, Yeager.  _

There isn’t really that much to tell. “The MPs showed up at our apartment about two hours ago, and they somehow knew we were Clairs.” I chance a glance at Levi, but he doesn’t seem to react at all by the admission. In fact, he looks as bored as ever. I have a sneaking suspicion that that just might be his face. “They knocked Armin out before they could even question him. Saying something about not wanting him to get… inside their head.” My eyes narrowed as I take in Levi in front of me. His gaze drops. If it wasn’t for the microscopic shift he does in the chair, I would’ve thought nothing of it. But as he did it, my suspicions about him are almost confirmed. 

“I don’t even remember what happened after that. The lady said some stuff, and it ended with me burning down the whole thing down.” Was that it? Was that really all that's happened? There had to be more, right? It felt like he’d been trapped in that place for ages, interrogated and tortured. At the same time, it feels like the events that took place there happened a lifetime ago when in reality, it had only been a couple hours. 

“So you’re a Flamer, I take it,” Levi deduces, folding his hands together on the table and leaning forward. “I would’ve guessed that. You seem like a hot-head.” At that, I bare my teeth. Out of everything I’d just said, he wants to bring up my temper? “But that doesn’t explain how you showed up to  _ our  _ apartment.” 

“That was Armin,” I say, crossing my arms and attempting to get more comfortable. “He’s a clever, sees the future and shit. He said this place would be safe. He also said-” At that moment, there is a loud knocking on the door. 

My heart rate spikes. The inside of my stomach turns to ice. My whole body tenses with the rehashing of this morning’s events coming back to haunt me. Is this going to be the rest of my life? Going to places that should be safe, but only to have them find me again? How am I going to live like this? And I’d led them right to Erwin. 

_ Stupid, stupid, stu- _

“Relax,” Erwin says, quietly. “It’s just Hange.” He gets up from his seat, and I want to scream at him to stop, that this is a trap. I want to shout at the top of my lungs that I’m not the only stupid one here. Erwin’s words do nothing to settle the aching in my chest. 

“Relax.” I hear the voice echoing in my head and turn to look at the person who’s said it. Levi’s looking at me, his face never distorted, but his eyes are carrying something beneath them. Something, that I can’t quite make out. And from just one word spoken by him, I melt into the chair. My heart rate slows to a more normal pace, and my limbs sag from the tension I’ve put in them. 

My eyes raise to look at Levi in curiosity and dubiousness. Before I can question him, Erwin returns. Someone’s following him. The person isn’t donned in all black, making the remaining tension that might’ve been in my system drain from me completely. In fact, their clothing is quite dull. A light yellow shirt with a brown jacket thrown over it, inside out. Their pants are a dull shade of gray, and everything put together looks like it was put on in haste, not giving a shit about if they looked good or not. Their dark, unruly hair was tied up to keep it out of their face. Large brown eyes shine out behind oval shaped spectacles, and a large smile plasters itself onto their face when they look at me. I try my best to smile back, but it only results in awkward face twist. 

“Hange, this is Eren. Eren, Hange.” Erwin steps away from the introduction and allows Hange to surge forward and take one of my hands, shaking vigorously. I’m wondering why so many people enjoy shaking hands. I thought it was just Armin for the longest time. 

Before I can dwell on other sanitary means to greet someone, Hange is talking to me. “I’m Hange. Nice to meet ya!” 

“Likewise,” I reply, quietly, staring at our linked hands as they continues to shake them. 

“Would you stop that. You’re making the kid uncomfortable.” Levi has his head in his hands like he’s trying to fight a headache that suddenly bloomed when Hange entered the room. Hange let’s go almost immediately, and with the sudden relief that floods through me, I don’t have time to be miffed that Levi had just called me a kid. 

Hange doesn’t seem bothered by the cold tone of his voice and instead plops down in Erwin’s seat beside me. “Oh, please,  _ me?  _ Make people  _ uncomfortable?  _ Pfft.” They wave a hand in the air, brushing off the awkward tone the air had taken. “So, what’s been happening. How’d this one get here?” 

_ Oh, God, did I have to rehash the whole story  _ again? 

“MPs are after him. We’re giving him and his friend refuge,” Erwin intones, and I’m so thankful he did, I would’ve shaken his hand a million times. 

Hange seems a to be taken aback, looking from me to Erwin to Levi. “Friend?” 

“He’s passed out on the couch. Gunshot wound to the leg and probably a concussion,” Levi answers. “Erwin’s already dressed the wound, but there’s not much we can do until he wakes up.” 

“And we can’t exactly take him to the hospital,” Erwin adds. “Would anyone like tea?” 

Levi makes a grunt that sounds something suspiciously like, “Yes, please.” Hange waves their hand again and shakes their head. Erwin’s eyes land on me and I realize that if I eat or drink anything it would just come back up. 

“No, thank you.” 

Erwin retreats farther into the kitchen, and Hange lifts a hand to their mouth, eyebrows scrunching up as they try to think of something to say. “So, you both are Clairs?” I nod. “Fascinating. This could completely change our plans.” 

“Hange-”

“Shut up.” Levi interrupts Erwin with a curl of his lips. “We don’t know shit about them. What makes you think they’re coming with?” Levi’s neutral, bored expression turns into a cold glare. And off they go into a thirty-second staring match. 

“Um,” I try to interrupt the silent argument that’s going on around me. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you a Clair, too?” Hange’s eyes widen as they turn their stare from Levi to me and nod vigorously as an answer. 

“Oh, yeah. You bet I am. Levi, too. And Erwin. Funny how you knocked on the one apartment that’s inhabited by all Clairs.” 

“Yeah, it’s a real miracle,” Levi says, rolling his eyes a bit. It’s then that I decide it: I don’t like this guy. And it’s not because he “ _ stabbed _ ” me -- or whatever the fuck he did. Then again, I don’t exactly expect him to be  _ nice  _ to me. I don’t know that I’d be any different in this situation. 

So, I settle for narrowing my eyes. 

“What are you all exactly?” I ask, finding new confidence in Levi’s bad attitude. “I know Erwin’s a Clever, but what about you and Levi?” 

Hange gets a distant look on their face. “We’re Shadows.” 

And the nerves are back. I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen one before, and all of sudden there are two sitting in front of me. I’m already pretty clued in on what Levi’s clair is, but Hange is a mystery. And I find myself intrigued by them.

“Shadows’ clairs are vague at best,” Hange rambles on. “There’s not much of us out there. Being shunned by both Normalfolk and Clairs alike, we’re pretty intent to stay in the… well, in the shadows. It’s hard to explain my clair itself.” Erwin had taken the seat on the right of Levi, handing him a cup of what could only be tea. Levi takes it by the brim and takes a sip, leaving me to wonder how the hell he doesn’t drop it. 

“Literal darkness,” Levi offers up as he finishes sipping. 

“Hm,” Hange hums. “I guess so. What about you, Levi? Explain your clair.” 

Levi sets the cup down on the table with an audible  _ thud.  _ “Which one?” And that’s when I’m sure my jaw hit the floor.  _ Which one?  _ Meaning he has  _ multiple?  _ That’s impossible, isn’t it? You can’t have  _ multiple  _ clairs. Who the hell was this guy, and why am I oddly impressed by him? 

“Close your mouth, brat. You’ll catch flies.” Instantly, my teeth clench at the new derogatory nickname. “One’s the same as Hange. Literal darkness that is vague and stupid and useless. The other one is something you’re familiar with.” He watches me as he says the next words, amusement coating each of them. “The ability to make people do, say, and feel whatever I want them to.” There are goosebumps on my skin from the sudden chill in the room. Levi raises the cup to his lips, takes a sip, and says one more thing. “Eren, the hilt of an imaginary knife is also imaginary.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any questions my tumblr is [here](http://angel-ofthe-timelord.tumblr.com/)  
> Until next time!!  
> And thank you guys so much for reading :D


	6. A Sister, Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren remembers the sister he'd temporarily forgotten.

Goosebumps scatter on my arms. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My muscles tense up as the new information is repeated over and over inside my head. There’s so much to think about that my brain decides it’s too much and thinks of nothing. I’m left to stare at the kitchen table, running my finger gingerly over a scratch in the wood.

I wasn’t really stabbed, was I? I just  _ thought  _ I was hurt. He’d made me think I was hurt, and from what I’d heard from Erwin, he didn’t mean to do that to me. He just… panicked. He walked into his apartment intent on discussing something with Erwin, but instead of that, he got an unknown twenty-two-year-old standing in the middle of his living room in his red-stained pajamas. Of course,  _ anyone  _ would panic.

But that just leaves me with other questions. He didn’t say anything. He simply looked at me. If he can control someone’s thoughts and feelings just by  _ looking  _ at them, then he’s more powerful than I originally thought. And  _ two  _ clairs? He’s a powerhouse. I’m intrigued, and if the situation were any different, I might have thought of befriending this man. As it stands, however, he’s made it quite obvious that he and I are  _ not  _ friends, nor will we ever be.

So I’m left to be mildly indulged. Without further questioning, I cannot hope to understand Levi. I don’t even know his last name,  or if he even has one.  _ Do I even want to know him?  _ Of course, I do. Who wouldn’t want to know a Clair, a  _ Shadow,  _ with two powers? He’s a one of a kind, an exception to reality. He’s gained my fear, attention, and my respect all in the span of a half hour.

And look at me, going on and on about how great this guy is. He fucking stabbed me, for crying out loud. Well… okay here’s the thing. He didn’t  _ physically  _ stab me, but my brain thought it was real. If Erwin says I could have died, then it’s fucking  _ real,  _ okay?

But that only brings up the existential question of what is real and what is not real. If  _ real  _ things are something we can touch and feel and comprehend, doesn’t that make the knife he didn’t stab me with real? In a sense, was it not real to me? I felt the knife. I felt like I was bleeding and  _ dying.  _ I knew it was real in that moment, and in the next, it was simply my imagination. And who’s to say what is imaginary and not imaginary. If I were to say this chair I’m sitting in isn’t real, would I be wrong? I thought the knife was real. I was wrong.

And I have an answer for my question.

Levi.

To be someone who can convince another that they are dying without a single word is someone who can say what is real and imaginary. To be able to defy all logic and answer all questions about what is real and unreal is the person sitting across from me at the table in a shabby apartment. Someone who found a stark white shirt.

Is the shirt really white? Is this apartment actually as shabby as it appears? Am I really Eren Yeager, a twenty-two-year-old Flamer cursed with the knowledge that I know nothing, other than the fact that I  _ know  _ I know nothing? Is anything real?

Ah, I’m getting into paradoxes now.

“Hange, I have to head out and pick up some stuff. Do you want to come with me?” Erwin’s low voice pierces through my ugly thoughts, and I’m glad for the distraction. He’s looking intently at Hange who still has their thumb and forefinger pressed to their chin. They startle at Erwin’s sudden words.

“What do you need?” They ask, looking confused for a moment, gazing at Erwin in curiosity. “We just went grocery shopping.”

“I need to pick up some bandages…” He trails off, but I know Hange gets the gist of the situation and instantly stands, ready to go.

“Are you coming?” The question is directed at Levi, who only swats his hand.

“No, I’m going to stay here and make sure the hot-head doesn’t burn the place down.”  _ Really? Forget it, I don’t like this guy.  _ I narrow my eyes, trying to shove all of my emotions into this stare, but Levi hardly seems fazed. Erwin nods and turns toward the said hot-head, me.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be going outside anytime soon,” is all he says, and despite such few little words, I can hear the sympathy in his voice. It does nothing but further my annoyance about being useless. Instead, I just nod mutely as he walks out with Hange in tow.

Right. Where was I? Oh, yes, contemplating the paradoxical and infinite secrets of the universe.

“You look constipated,” a deep voice rumbles, and I lift my head in time to see Levi finishing off his tea.  “What are you thinking about?”

My eyebrows furrow and my eyes dart around. I’m not entirely sure how to react to the statement before the last one. I want to shout, ‘I’m not constipated!’ but I realize how juvenile that sounds. How do I explain what I was thinking about? I could try to tell him, but I find that my thoughts make much more sense to me than they would to anyone else. “I’m just… contemplating my entire existence,” I supply, with an awkward shrug. I can see a slight upturn of his lips. Is that funny to him?

“That would be my fault. Existential crises are a side-effect of sorts.” He twirls a finger around the rim of his teacup as he crosses his legs.

Huh. Okay, so I’m not being completely weird today. It’s just him. My curiosity is growing, and it’s quickly replacing the anger I’d felt moments earlier. Hange and Erwin are gone, and I don’t feel like I have to censor all of my questions. Levi seems like a blunt guy, so I don’t think he’ll mind me asking some questions. If he does, he’ll have no problem telling me that I’ve stepped over a line, I’m sure.

“You speak Marian?” I ask, deciding to veer away from the clair talk, if only for a little while. “Were your parents from Maria?”

Maria was an old city on the outskirts Sina about thirty years ago. Back when being a Clair wasn’t really that _bad._ Yes, there was still fear and hesitance, but you could find places that were sympathetic to them. Places where a Clair didn’t have to hide. Maria was one of those places. It was the fall of Maria that really set the Clair hunting in motion. The old city was burned to the ground and anyone who lived there was killed. Normalfolk and Clairs alike. The language was banned, and anyone who got caught speaking it was arrested or killed. It’s only people like my mother that got lucky. Those who were away when it happened, and came home to ashes.

“I lived in Maria,” Levi says, and I’m left to gape. He wasn’t  _ that  _ old, was he? He looks the same age as me. Unblemished skin. Straight black hair. He can’t be over thirty. But here he is telling me he lived in Maria. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m thirty-six. I was with my grandmother in Sina when they attacked. I didn’t even know Sinian, so I went mute for years until I learned the language.” He heaves a sigh, and I get the impression he doesn’t talk about it that much. He runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Why do you want to know?”

“I just heard you shout eyebrows really loud in my mother’s language, and I got really confused.”

Levi’s eyes widen marginally, and he asks another question. “You speak Marian?” It’s the same question I asked earlier.

A grin forces its way onto my face as I nod enthusiastically. “ _ Yes, my mother taught me _ .” The language is more throaty and guttural, rather than the smooth language of Sinian, but I manage to say those five words in the formerly mentioned language, and I honestly couldn’t be prouder of myself. As someone who doesn’t actively practice it, I guess I do okay.

Levi nods, “ _ Not bad.”  _ I’ve never had a reason to use my mother’s tongue but knowing that I can talk with Levi in this language that’s been outlawed to the rest of the world gives me a warm feeling in my chest.

“Does Erwin know Marian? I know you called out to him, but…” Anything to just keep this conversation going,  _ please. _

“No, Erwin doesn’t know the language. Neither does Hange. Born and raised in this city, that lot. I just call out to him like that because I know he’s paranoid that someone might hear.” He chuckles a bit if I can call it that. It’s more like a deep rumble in his chest. “Of course, someone  _ might  _ hear me, but they won’t remember it for long if I found out they’ve heard me.” He smirks, and the chills are back. He seems to notice this and changes the topic. “What is your specific clair? I know you’re a Flamer, but that doesn’t give me much.”

“Oh, well,” I start, “I can make flames, like, shoot out of my skin.” His eyebrows raise a hair, but other than that he doesn’t seem to react at all.

“Can you concentrate it into one part of you, or is all of you one big match?” I let out a laugh and shake my head.

“Only if I want it to be.” Levi nods, taking his answer as it was. “What about your, uh, powers? How do they work? You said what they do, but you don’t seem to have much control over it. I know I have problems with controlling mine. They act up when I get emotional.” I notice that Levi’s fingers grip the tea cup, and I fear it might shatter.

“I thought I was only a Shadow at first,” he says. “I’m not going to give you my whole back story, but let’s just say that I only had one clair for the longest time. It wasn’t until recently that I acquired the new one. It was when I first met Erwin, and that’s a weird story for another time, so I’m not going into it. He thought I was a Clever like him, but I wasn’t. I’m not. This whole situation is just as confusing to me as it is baffling to everyone else. Hange wanted to experiment on me when I first told them.” I nod dutifully. Levi seems so sure of himself that I kind of feel inferior with my half-phrased, awkward sentences. I don’t hate the guy, I find out while I sit here having a half-decent conversation with him. He’s not exactly likable, but I find myself liking him more with each detail about himself that he reveals. Each question he answers, I realize that maybe he isn’t so bad. His sharp way of speaking and his blunt, bored attitude are intriguing.

There’s a lull in the conversation before I ask, “So, is Hange a boy or a girl?”

He snorts. “Hell if I know, kid. Does it matter?”

I shrug. “Not really. They seem nice.”

“They’re crazy.”

There’s another moment of silence that is less uncomfortable than the last. I’m left to think of what’s going through my head, and I realize that this is nice. To be in someone’s company without having to talk to them. It’s not uncomfortable or tense as it was moments ago. I’m not obligated to say anything, and Levi seems content to just sit here with me as well. We are alone together, and at one point, I would’ve said that sounded lonely. I understand now that it is anything but.

“Do you have any family you should get back to, or is it just you and the blond mushroom?”

“My parents died when I was young but-”

Mikasa.

Shit. Shitshitshit. Oh, my God. How could I have just been sitting here, smiling and discussing my heritage when she’s probably crying in front of our apartment, fried extra crispy? How could I have just ignored that fact that the MPs are also after her? What if they already got to her? What if she’s dead and it’s all because I couldn’t get my head out of my ass for an hour to think about her. She’s  _ always  _ thought about me, always taken care of me, looked after me. And when push came to shove, I simply  _ forgot  _ about her. What the fucking hell is wrong with me? I’m hyperventilating. I can feel my pulse speed up, and my stomach is doing weird flip-flops.

“Eren?” My whole body is set to vibrate, and I can feel my fingers sparking with the emotions I can’t contain. My skin is hot, ready to light aflame if I lose even the slightest of my self-control. I can’t see anything besides the blurry tears that threaten to overspill. No, I will not cry. Crying does nothing to fix the situation. I need to stay calm. I need to-

Levi’s by my side in seconds, turning me around in my chair to face him. “Eren,” he repeats, and I don’t have to see the milky quality his eyes take on. I can hear it in his voice. A voice that demands, controls. “Calm. Down.” He’s speaking through gritted teeth. “Tell me what’s happening.”

My skin no longer feels like it’s about to boil against my bones, and my heart no longer wants to jump out of the confines of my chest. It’s content to stay right where it is, but I am not. I still need to find Mikasa. I’m still worried about her, and I still hate myself because I forgot about her. But I have to tell Levi what’s going on before I can do anything. He’ll help me, right?

_ Who are you kidding?  _ I’ve only just met the man. He knows nothing about me. How could he possibly help me in any way?

Nevertheless, I find myself telling him everything. “Mikasa, she’s my sister. She wasn’t in the apartment when the MPs came looking for us. She went to a friend of hers. I don’t know if they got to her, or she’s still with Annie . I don’t know if she’s gone looking for me and Armin, or if she thinks we’re dead. I don’t even know if she’s still  _ alive.”  _ My voice breaks on the last word and with it comes a broken sob. How pathetic can I be? “I need to find her. I can’t just leave her.”

Levi regards everything I say with a nod, and then he backs up. His feet shuffle on the carpet, and he smoothes out the imaginary wrinkles in his shirt. “You can’t go anywhere,” he replies after what feels like forever. His voice is normal, and that makes me feels a bit better. He doesn’t yell or demand why I’d forgotten the only family I had left. He doesn’t judge. He stands there, ruffling a hand in his hair and shaking his head. “The MPs are definitely still looking for you. Tell me where I might find her, and I’ll go look.” He sighs heavily which makes me think he’d rather be doing anything else.

The cold feeling of dread is squashed with something warm and pleasant, and I have no idea what it is. I quickly blurt out Annie’s address, words falling over each other. He’s walking away as soon as I finished my awkward mumbling, but I have no intention of staying here while Levi risks his life looks for the sister  _ I  _ forgot. “No,” I say trying to keep my voice from cracking. “I’m going with you. She’s my sister.”

“Who’s going to look after Armin?” He says, already slipping into a black jacket and lacing up his boots. “What if he wakes up and no one’s here?” I know he’s trying to be the voice of reason that I no longer possess. He’s trying to look after me, but that’s a luxury I don’t want when it gets in the way of my resolve. “What if the MPs are out there? They’ll recognize you, and kill me for associating with you, whether I’m a Clair or not.”

“I’m not going to play princess stuck in a castle with no doors!” I shout. The feeling of fire is back in the pit of my stomach. I refuse to sit around and do nothing while my sister might still be out there, looking for me. I have to find her. Myself. No one else is allowed to do this for me, and though I appreciate Levi’s efforts, I don’t want them.

“Yes, you will. Erwin would kill me if he knew I let you out.” He doesn’t shout. Which is unnerving, and it makes me shrink like I’d just been scolded. But it also awakens something primal within me. I’m caged in this apartment. They don’t want me to leave. I’m trapped here. A bird caught in a cage while a tornado rages outside.

And it creates an epiphany I’m not sure I wanted to have. Is it better to be safe and trapped, or free and in danger? I would’ve argued the latter twenty-four hours ago, but now that I know how  _ real  _ the danger is, I’m not sure anymore. It’s becoming somewhat of a pattern. Thinking of questions and having no answers for myself.

Regardless, Levi sighs and shakes his head. “You’re not a prisoner here… I don’t like keeping you here.” He drops his head, and for the first time, a hint of emotion actually crosses his face. What that emotion is, I’m not sure. “But I can’t let you leave. I’ll find your sister, but you have to stay here. Tell me you’ll stay here.” He’s gone quiet, his voice getting lower and lower until I can barely hear it.

“I-” I don’t know what to say. He’s giving me a choice, and I’m forced to face the question I have no answer to. On one hand, I want to be head strong. I want to stand behind my decisions no matter which I choose, and I’ve made it quite clear that I’ll do anything to go after my sister. I can’t just change my mind now. I  _ have  _ to go after Mikasa, and  _ this guy  _ can’t stop me.

He seemed to realize this because as soon as I thought it, he straightens up, looks me in the eyes, and demands, “Do not leave this apartment.” And he is gone.

The door is opened and then closed, leaving no trace that he was ever here. I dart toward the exit, yanking the handle with all my might. I see Levi rounding the corner at the end of the hall, but when I try to put my foot over the threshold, it only bounces off. I place my hand on what should feel like empty air, but instead, I’m met with something like glass. I push and push, and I know that he’s trapped me in here. Not only am I trapped in this apartment, I’m trapped inside my head. None of this is real. The barrier over the door, the knife. I don’t even know what my real feelings are anymore. Levi’s been in my life throughout the entirety of a couple hours, and he’s already got me contemplating what’s  _ me  _ and what’s  _ him.  _ Some things are obvious. I’m not  _ really  _ trapped in this apartment; he’s just making me think I am. I’m not  _ really  _ this relaxed, but I  _ think  _ I am.

Maybe none of this is real.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll wake up on the couch in my old, crappy apartment, and this will all be a dream. No man with two clairs. No people in black suits bursting into our apartment. No shot legs. No fire. No mind games. Mikasa will be on her way out to see Annie. Jean will come over, maybe with Marco, and we’ll sit down in the living room and talk and joke and laugh. Maybe I’ll wake up without a clair and my parents will be cooking breakfast in the other room.

What is real? I ask myself, and as I bang on the transparent block in the threshold of the apartment, I figure that it doesn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this chapter up a bit quicker than usual, but that's because this chapter was so long that I had to cut it in half.  
> So expect the next chapter sometime in the near future.  
> Thank you for reading guys!! And thanks to everyone who left a kudos and comment. You guys make my day :D


	7. A Clever Chapter Title

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a Clever wakes up screaming, you know you're fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to apologize now for the long wait and the shitty chapter.  
> On that note, enjoy!

Eventually, I close the door, fuming as I go to the living room.  _ I’ll kick his fucking ass, I swear, I will.  _ Anger is my fuel, keeping me standing on my feet. My sanity is dwindling, my mind reeling. I’m caught between being furious and being an absolute mess. I want nothing more than to just be dead to the world, to not be aware of the barriers holding me in this god-forsaken apartment. I want Mikasa to be safe, but I don’t want to  _ know  _ that there is a possibility that she could very well be dead.

I want to be as clueless as Armin, passed out on the couch without a care in the world. Obviously, when he wakes up, things are going to be difficult for him, but right now, he doesn’t know about any of that. He doesn’t know that he almost died or that he’s been shot in the leg. He’s blissfully unaware of everything happening around him, and I want that.

God, when did I start sounding so weak? Sure, I’m stuck in this apartment with literally no way out, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely useless, right? I’m definitely not weak. If Levi wants me to sit on my ass, I will… until he comes back here. Then, I’m going to light him on fire.

Rage is starting to soak me to my core, but not to the point where I feel I’m going to explode. I’m completely in control. Except, my fists seem to clench by themselves, and I can’t help the way my eyebrows furrow. My skin feels hot, but when I touch my hands together, they’re both incredibly cold.

Sighing, I finally start to think about my situation instead of letting anger take control. It isn’t necessarily right of Levi to lock me in this apartment the way he did, but it’s the only thing that would’ve kept me in here. If he’d simply _asked_ me if I would stay in here, I would’ve told him to piss off as I grabbed my jacket on the way out of the door.

But that’s not what he did, and I can’t blame him for not trusting me.

I walk over to where Armin is sitting on the couch. He looks peaceful, but I know that it is an illusion of ignorance. He looks much older, also. His hair looks almost white in the low light of the living room. There are deep purple bags under his eyes, and his lips are pale. His skin has taken on a yellowish tone, and it makes me sick just to look at him. What the hell did Armin do to deserve any of this? He was always the smart one, and he’d know exactly how to feel about this entire situation. He’d look upon it with calculating blue eyes, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He’d wring his hands together and scrunch up his nose in concentration. And he’d solve everything.

Unfortunately, for me, Armin doesn’t show any signs of waking up soo-

The apartment is filled with the shrill sound of someone screaming. Armin lunges off his resting place on the couch, mouth still open, screaming. It’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard. I’ve never seen Armin scream like this. It cuts through the air, vibrating off the walls, piercing me with all its might. Armin’s hands have come up to cover his eyes, and his scream turns into a pathetic sob.

Instinctively, I reach for him. My hands reach his, and I pull them away from his face. “Armin, it’s okay. You’re safe!” He shakes his head, his eyes closed. He cannot see me. I _need_ him to see me. I need him to know that everything is okay and that we’re in the safe house he told me to go to. “Armin, look at me. It’s Eren! We’re okay!”

Armin’s eyes snap open. “No! We’re not safe!” He yells, and I’m suddenly aware that we’re in an apartment building, and the neighbors could easily alert the MPs of our presence. I climb onto the couch behind Armin, pulling him to me, trying to get him to calm down. Only, nothing seems to stop the sobs.

“We’re safe, Armin,” I whisper to him, hoping that a familiar voice will send him back to reality, back to me. “I’ve talked to these people. They’re okay. They’re not going to hurt us.” _Intentionally,_ I quietly add on, still not over the fact that Levi’s powers are dubious at best. But with my words, Armin only seems to shake more.

“No, no, no, no.” He looks so small in my arms, rocking back and forth, his body shaking with tears running down his sallow cheeks. He looks so helpless, and I want nothing more than to just protect him.

“Eren, you were supposed to leave me. Why didn’t you leave me? You were supposed to-” He hiccupped, cutting himself off. “Do you know what you’ve done? Why can’t you just listen for once in your life?”

I stared at him confused. “Armin, calm down. You’ve been hit in the head. You could have a concussion. And you’ve been shot-”

“I know I’ve been shot!” Armin yells. “The MPs are going to show up any minute because of the blood trail _I_ left.” His hands are tangling themselves in his hair, and his head is between his knees. “We have to leave. _Now!_ This place would’ve been safe if you’d just left me behind like you were supposed to do.”

He pushes himself off the couch, trying to stand on his feet. Instead, he cries out, clutching his leg and tumbling to the floor. I kneel down beside him. “You can barely walk.”

“Fuck!” He yells, slapping his fist against the floor. He seems to have gotten his wits together, but I know he’s still panicking. He didn’t expect to make it out of our apartment alive, and now all of a sudden he has to think of a way to get us out of another crappy situation. He looks up at me with those bright blue eyes, and I feel my heart ache inside my chest. “You need to leave. This time, really, _leave me here.”_

And that’s when I remember. _Levi’s locked me in the fucking apartment._ “Armin, I can’t leave even if I wanted to.” Armin’s eyes widen, his tongue darting out to wet his cracked lips.

“What do you mean? Of course, you can leave.” His voice is dry and scratchy. It hurts my head just listen to him sound like this. Armin has always been the strong one, the one who could keep his head on his shoulders throughout anything. Seeing him so weak and panicked in front of me gives me a feeling of dread. I suddenly wish that Levi will come back soon. The sooner Levi comes back, the sooner I can leave.

“It’s hard to explain,” I say, quite uselessly.

I don’t need to tell him what’s happened since he’s been out because I have the sneaking suspicion that he already knows. “When are they going to show up?” I don’t have to specify who; Armin seems to understand through the rough tone of my voice.

“I don’t know. How long have we been here?” Armin’s blue eyes are darting back and forth from the door to my face. He must be in so much pain, but the only thing showing is his fear. The gentle shake of his hands as he dry washes his face and the way he clenches his jaw, trying not to let his teeth chatter gives me all the information I need. We have to get out of here and soon.

“We’ve been here for a couple of hours at the most,” I reply, my hand running over his back, trying to get him to calm down even just a little bit.

But my words completely cancel out my actions. Armin sucks in a large breath of air and tries to stumble to his feet again. “Armin!”

“We have to leave. Now!” He clutches his leg and grits his teeth, willing himself forward with strength I can’t hope to possess. “Why are you just sitting there?” Armin’s yelling. He panicked. He’s trying to think of a strategy that will ensure the both of us survive, but whatever he comes up with will never work.

All because of a certain short Shadow.

Armin continues to yell at me, but I no longer hear what he’s saying. I’m too wrapped up in thinking about how many times I’ve almost died today alone. I’m so sick of feeling like my heart is going to explode, like my head is reliving every memory before I die. I’m so tired of feeling useless and needing someone’s help.

It’s been only a handful of hours, and yet I thought I was going to die two different times. I’m not going to let there be a third. If I die today, so be it. If I don’t, then that’s nothing more than a miracle.

So when I hear the knock on the door, I’m not afraid. I’m not panicking. There’s a calm that settles deep into my bones, threatening to drag me down and hold me there. I don’t know where Armin is, but I can still hear his voice yelling at me to follow him.

I want to scream back at him, but I’ve lost my voice. I want to stand and run, but my knees are stuck to the floor. In this moment, there’s nothing going through my head. I’m stuck in an in-between of sorts; a gray area. Twilight. Purgatory. The MPs have busted open the door, and I can hear their footsteps stomping through the kitchen.

Armin’s beside me in an instant, hugging me. Why is he hugging me?

And that’s when I snap out of it. I’ve done all of this to protect him, so why has that suddenly changed? I might not be able to leave this fucking apartment, but I can still fight. But there’s really not much I can do when I feel the muzzle of a gun nudge the back of my head. I can’t exactly light up when the only thing keeping me alive is my docile behavior.

I don’t know what they’re saying to us this time, and I don’t care. But, I can tell there are four of them. Now, I’m just trying to think of a way to ensure that we both survive. Quite frankly, I’m coming up very, _very_ short.

Maybe if Levi hadn’t been such an asshole…

Something draws my gaze over to the door to the living room. At first, all I see is the boots of the MPs, muddy and disgusting, threatening to kick me. But as I look closer, I can see something slithering in underneath the door. Inky black and menacing, it almost looks like smoke. It crawls along the floor, inching its way toward us. Nobody else notices, and I’m pretty sure the stress of today has started to make me hallucinate.

But I continue to watch as the MPs keep yelling and the smoke snake slithers right past me and wraps around one of the officer’s legs. It twists and crawls up their leg, then their torso. The officer being quietly attacked has no idea what happening to him. Hell, I don’t even know what’s happening right now. Do I say anything? Why the hell would I?

It starts to wrap it’s way around his thick neck, slithering against the ungodly yellow skin. It slides upwards, crawling inside the man’s nose, effectively making me choke back a gag. Before I know what’s happening, the officer’s pupils dilate, covering the iris and all of the whites. While the leader of this group continues to talk about how we’ve murdered three MPs, the infected one raises his gun, aims, and shoots at the leader, hitting her in the head. The shot has Armin jumping away from me, and I can hear the ringing in my ears start up again.

By now, everything’s starting to make sense.

The black-eyed guard turns to the two behind him, who are raising their guns. Two more shots fire out and. And then a third.

Four corpses now defile the living room floor. Blood decorates the walls, sliding down the walls and offering an odd comfort to my racing heart. I look up only to see that Armin is staring at the living room entry way with wide eyes. 

I don’t have to look up to see who it is. The four dead bodies surrounding me tell me who it is before I hear him clicking his tongue. “What fucking happened?” 

I can feel my brow sweating, and my eye takes on an unwelcome twitch. My skin is growing hot with rage, and my breathing becomes labored and uneven. Slowly, I turn my head to him. I can feel the flames threatening to climb out of my skin and burn whatever’s in my path. It’s not that I’m angry with him for  _ saving  _ us. I’m angry because we had to be  _ saved.  _ If it weren’t for him, I could’ve lifted Armin up and run as fast as I could away from the apartment. 

But this fucking douchebag over here had to  _ command  _ me not to leave the apartment. In a vain attempt to try and save me, he inadvertently signed my death certificate. Just goes to show what you get when you trust people. 

“Eren-” 

“You  _ trapped  _ me in this fucking apartment.” My voice is barely audible over the pounding of my heartbeat. “You left us here to die.” My gaze never leaves his, and I can see Armin in the corner of my eye yanking his head from me to him, trying to make sense out of the words being spoken. It doesn’t even matter that we’re surrounded by four dead bodies. It’s not important that I can feel blood drying against my scalp from where the bullet exited the back of a man’s head and rained down the macabre liquid. 

This is about the fucker who can’t even look me in the eye right now. 

There’s a silence that settles over us, and I can see Levi fidgeting on his feet. Microscopic shifts of his weight tell me he’s extremely uncomfortable. He doesn’t know what to say, and I find solace in the fact that I’ve rendered him speechless for once. 

It feels like hours and hours that we are locked in this ultimate staring match. Armin clears his throat, and just like that, the spell is broken. “What did you do?” The question is directed at Levi, and said man cocks his head to the side to look at the blond boy, silently asking him to elaborate. 

“To… to him?” Armin nods his head toward the guard who’d fired all four fatal shots. 

“Oh,” Levi breathes. He opens his mouth to answer when he suddenly sways on his feet. His arm reaches out to brace himself against the doorway. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his brow and his eyes are darting around the room. I see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and his chest heaves. He looks paler than normal.

And just like that my anger is gone, replaced with curiosity and worry.  _ Why am I worried about him?  _ I don’t move from my spot on the floor, content to just watch as he stumbles to the blood-stained couch. Armin gets up from his spot beside me and hobbles over to the couch, clutching his leg as he went. 

“Oh, my God, are you okay?” Levi slouches on the couch with his head between his knees, gently pushing forward and rocking back. 

“‘m fine,” He mumbles. “Just hurts.” Armin sits down on the coffee table in front of him, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Levi doesn’t flinch away, too preoccupied with his ritual of rocking back and forth. 

“What happened?” Armin’s hushed voice rings out. Levi doesn’t answer, and I’m left to sit idly by and twiddle my thumbs. I don’t want to think right now. I don’t want to look a centimeter to my left and see the brains of an MP. I don’t want to watch Levi as he chokes back small noises of pain. 

“Where’s Mikasa?” I hear myself say, though that’s not exactly what was on my mind.

“I couldn’t find her, kid,” Levi whispers in reply, eyes squeezed closed. “She’s not at the address you gave me.” Disappointment overwhelms me, but it’s soon crushed by dread. What if she’s dead? What if they caught her and put a bullet in her brain? What if- 

“Mikasa’s with Jean and Marco right now. She’s fine,” Armin mumbles, almost like an afterthought. “I saw it.” 

The hammering of my heart dies down, the adrenaline retreats leaving me to feel exhausted. The anger, the dread, it’s all gone now. It’s only mild disgust that fills me as I unstick my knees from the bloody floor and walk to where Levi is standing. 

“Thank you, Levi.” 

He stops his rocking and lifts his head to look at me through glassy eyes. His face his pale other than the blotchy red spots on his cheeks. His eyes are bloodshot, and the bags under them look worse than ever.  _ This is probably the most expressive I’ve seen him,  _ I think as he lets his lips turn up in what looks like a smile. Only, it’s too small to be a smile. It’s more like a reassurance that he heard me and understands that it’s also an apology. Because I am sorry. 

He risked his life to find  _ my  _ sister, someone he’d never met before. He looks close to death right now. 

He scoffs, “You’re welcome, shitty brat.” There is no malice coating his words. No underlying insult in his tone. He sounds weak and shaky. I’m worried, no doubt, but I think I’m more curious as to why he’s in this state. 

But before I can think to ask, he’s standing up. He sways on his feet a bit, and my hands reach out to catch him on instinct. Luckily, he catches his balance, righting himself without any help. “We have to leave,” he says. “We can’t stay here. The MPs probably told  _ someone  _ where they were heading, so we have to get out.  _ Now!”  _

Levi walks a little better now, and he heads straight into a back room that I haven’t seen yet. I look over to Armin, who shakes his head, just as confused as I am. He returns with three backpacks, one strapped to his back and the other two in his hands. He tosses one to me and one to Armin.

“Put them on,” he utters. We do, and  I notice then that Armin is gasping out, eyes scrunching shut with pain. His hands grapple at the torn fabric of his pants, clutching his leg. Levi doesn’t seem to notice it, too wrapped up in checking his own bag for things. 

My hand grabs Armin’s shoulder, and I spin him toward me. “You can’t walk,” I state. His blue eyes look up into mine with worry, asking silently,  _ What are we going to do?  _ “Hold on to me, okay?” 

He nods, and his arm wraps around my shoulder. I hold onto his waist and together we hobble toward the exit. Levi’s now standing in the hallway, tapping his foot against the floor impatiently. 

Before we can make it out the door, something hits me in my face. I stumble back, my nose throbbing. Armin stumbles out of the door, and I’m left behind the threshold.  _ Of fucking course, how could I forget?  _ I think bitterly. 

“Ow!  _ Fuck!”  _ I clutch my face while shooting a glare off in Levi’s direction. Levi’s head shoots up, a half-assed insult on the tip of his tongue, but when he sees me, his eyes soften as he takes a step forward. “When did your imaginary barriers start to hurt so much?” I mumble, more to myself than anything. 

“I- You can leave now, Eren.” I pretend I don’t notice the stutter at the beginning because the echoey quality of his voice sounds like music to my ears as I finally step out of the apartment for the first time in hours. Armin’s looking between us as I grab his waist and throw his arm around my shoulder. His eyes look questioningly at me, but I only shake my head. I’ll definitely be telling him about this later, but right now, we need to focus on getting out of here in one piece. 

“Where are we going?” I ask Levi as we start to trudge down the hallway. 

“Hange’s apartment is a building over,” he replies simply. “We’ll lay low there.” 

“What about Hange and Erwin?” They can’t possibly know what’s transpired in the apartment. What if they walk in on an ambush? We can’t just leave and not tell them somehow, right? 

Levi doesn’t say anything for a while. His steps slow as he thinks about what I’d just asked. “I’ll have to come back for them. Right now, I just need to get you two out of the way.” 

“Why are you helping us?” Armin asks, trying to keep up with the pace I’ve set for the both of us. “Why don’t you just leave us?” 

Levi’s thin eyebrows scrunch together, and he lets out an indignant scoff. “Do you want to be left behind?” Armin shakes his head wildly. “I didn’t fucking think so.” 

The walk to the building over is nerve wracking. Everything that’s going through my head isn’t helping. Anything could go wrong, and knowing my luck, everything  _ will  _ go wrong. But it seems like Lady Luck has paid me a visit, and we reach Hange’s apartment without a hitch. This apartment is messier than Erwin’s. Papers and clothes are strewn all over the place, and the kitchen is filled with pots and pans.

Levi’s nose crinkles with disgust as he turns to us. “I’m going back for Hange and Erwin, and once I know that they’re safe, we’ll go and find Mik… Mikala?” Armin snorts.

“Mikasa,” he corrects. “And thank you, Levi.” Armin gives him a heartwarming smile. “For everything.” Levi grunts noncommittally and nods. 

“I don’t have to demand that you stay in the apartment this time?” He turns his cold gaze on me, and instantly I shake my head. I’m not going to give him another chance to take my choices away from me, even though I doubt he’d do it again. 

He seems to take my affirmations alright, and without another word, leaves in search of the other two. 

I set Armin down at what you could call a kitchen table, though I don’t think Hange uses it for eating. There are files and various assortments of pens and pencils on it. Papers and pictures cover the surface, leaving no traces of wood anywhere. 

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Armin sucks in a large breath of air. “I know how he did it!” There’s a certain sparkle in his eyes, and a smile tugging at his lips. My confused look prompts some explaining because he says, “I know how Levi killed those MPs.”

“Did you see it or something?” 

Armin huffs, “No, but I can figure it out. I know Levi has two clairs; that, I’ve seen. But that doesn’t make sense by itself, does it? Somehow, he found a way to combine both of them. That makes sense, right? He’s capable.” Honestly, it doesn’t sound that farfetched. Levi  _ does  _ have two clairs. Combining them wouldn’t be that farfetched. I tell Armin as much. “But it drains him somehow, doesn’t it? He can’t do it often because his powers drain him of energy. That’s why he was in so much pain right after.” Armin has his chin in his hands, and he’s staring at something on the floor. 

“Armin,” I start, “why don’t you ask him when he gets back. I’m sure he’d love to tell you everything.” There’s a hint of sarcasm lacing every word, but he doesn’t seem to catch it. 

“Are you kidding me?” Armin’s gaze snaps up to meet mine. “He’s colder than an Icer. I mean, I’m grateful for his help, don’t get me wrong, but he seems so unapproachable.” 

Does he really seem that distant? I mean, yeah, I guess. But hadn’t we talked for a good thirty minutes because we had nothing else to do? He wasn’t unapproachable then, was he? So I just shrug, and Armin doesn’t say anything more on the matter. 


	8. Time is an Illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When will Eren stop having existential crises?

It’s two hours after Levi has left. The clock on the wall seemed to stay in place, but I realized about an hour ago that the clock is just broken. Now, I only have the place of the sun to tell me what the time is. At least Armin’s stopped attempting to pace because when Armin paces, nothing good ever happens. It’s hard to have hope when the one who can see the future is shuffling around with an injured leg and no knowledge of how things _might_ turn out.

            I don’t know what the hell is taking him so long, and my mind instantly jumps to the worst case scenario that ends with everyone’s death.

            But I’m not going into that because there’s really no point. If something happens, then it happens; there’s not much we can do about it. If something doesn’t happen, then it doesn’t. More power to us. I’ve realized that worry will be the end of me, and I can’t let that happen. If I sit around and twiddle my thumbs, worrying over every little thing that could go wrong, I wouldn’t be doing much living. And who knows how much time I have – probably not a lot – but I have to use that to my advantage, right?

            Time is a weird concept. What even is time?

            “Armin, what’s time?”

            Armin looks up at me, his eyebrows scrunching together. “The clock is broken, Eren.” He gestures to the broken thing, as if that will tell me the answer to the question that I never asked.

            “No, _what is time?_ Like who came up with it?”

            Armin drops his hand, and tilts his head to the side, crossing his legs in the process. “No one came up with time, Eren. It’s measured by the sun, and when it rises and sets. Are you okay?”

            “No, Armin, listen. If there was a different amount of minutes in an hour… let’s say there are forty instead of sixty, and then there were more hours in the day. Wouldn’t that be the same thing?” Armin leans back, still not being able to take this seriously. “Time is ultimately something we made up.” Armin opens his mouth, but I cut him off, “It’s not real, is it? Time is just something humans gave life to because they didn’t know another way to cope with age and death and shit like that. If someone had decided that there were 25 hours in a day, we wouldn’t question it like we do now, right? It’s programmed into our heads that this is real.”

            “Eren,” Armin starts, “seriously, are you okay?” He doesn’t look like he just got anything I was saying and is staring at me with a concerned look. Frustration begins to overwhelm the curiosity from just moments ago, but I push it back down in favor of another question.

            “We came up with the word brain, correct? Our brain named itself.”

            Armin frowns, not impressed. “I suppose so.”

            I don’t ask another question, my brain having been fried by all the existential questions. If time isn’t real, then how long has Levi actually been gone?

            It doesn’t matter as the front door is currently being slammed open, and a mixture of voices fill the air. I’ve known them all for a couple hours, but the sigh that escapes me is one of pure relief. _They’re okay!_

            I see and hear Erwin first, saying something about making Armin walk all the way here when he could have a concussion. To which the voice that could only be Levi’s says, “Just be happy the brat’s fucking _awake.”_ I look over to where Armin’s pushed aside a stack of papers to make room for him to fit. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the situation that’s happening around him.

            Erwin walks into the room, holding two bags that look filled to the brim with medical supplies. He rushes over to where Armin is sitting and begins to empty it of its contents. This seems to get Armin’s attention. His eyebrows rise as he looks down at Erwin in front of him and says quietly, “Hello…” His eyes travel toward me, a look of confusion on his face. I just give him a nod, hoping that it’ll convey that Erwin is the most trustable person at the moment.

            “Hello,” Erwin replies, not really moving his gaze toward Armin. He seems more interested in worrying about with the medical bandages. His hands look shaky, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his brow. I don’t ask him what’s wrong because I already know. I may have burned my own apartment down to try and get away from the MPs, but that doesn’t mean I don’t regret it. Never being able to go back to the place you called home is bound to take a toll on anyone, even Erwin. And he never really got to say a proper goodbye, did he?

            It’s weird, having an attachment to something so minuscule as an apartment building in the slums of Shiganshina. Only, it wasn’t just an apartment, was it? It was home. I no longer know if I’m talking about Erwin or myself. I don’t think it matters anymore. We’ll both never go home.

            Erwin starts to patch up Armin’s leg again, and I zone out, finding myself in my own world where time doesn’t exist. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but Hange’s voice breaks through and shatters the little world I’ve started to build. “How’re you holding up there?” They ask, and I have no idea how to answer.

            So, I ignore the question and say, “Hange, your clock is broken.” To which they only laugh and jump into a story about how it got broken and when they finally noticed. Turns out it’s correct twice a day.

            “Hange, leave the kid alone,” Levi grumbles, situating himself on the wall across from us. “No one cares about the damn clock.”

            Hange isn’t bothered by Levi’s words. Instead, they smile brightly and sing, “Eren does!”

            “I can assure you, he doesn’t.”

            “Does!”

            “Doesn’t.”

            “Does!”

            “You know what, shitty glasses…” Levi cuts himself off, opting to bite the knuckles on his left hand. “Eren, do you care about what happens to the stupid ass clock?”

            I’m starting to get a headache, but watching Levi and Hange bicker back and forth is very amusing.  But seriously, how do I answer these questions. “Not really, no.” Honesty is the best policy, or at least that’s what I thought until I see Hange’s face fall. Eccentric human being that they are, I decide to ask a question that no one can give a straight answer to. “Hange, who made time?”

            Levi’s brow scrunches together, probably trying to guess what narcotics I’ve gotten into. Whatever. I didn’t ask him anyways. Hange face lights up instantly, completely forgetting about the broken clock. Good. I never liked that thing.

            “I don’t know!” Hange says, practically bouncing in their seat. “That’s an interesting question.” At least they didn’t tell me some bullshit about time always being there. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure during the prehistoric time, nobody cared about what time lunch was served. They ate when they were fucking hungry.

            Speaking of eating, my stomach rudely interrupts our conversation with a loud growl. I don’t even have the strength to be embarrassed about it. I’m hungry. So what? It’s not like I’ve never been hungry before.

            “On that note,” Levi says, after a moment of silence. Erwin continues to patch up Armin’s leg. “I think we all need something to eat. What’ve you got in the fridge?” Levi’s eyes narrow to Hange, and his nose wrinkles in disgust. “Do I even want to know what you have in that thing?”

            Hange chuckles, getting up from their seat beside me. “Probably not.” They walk in the kitchen, while I continue to contemplate the questions of the universe. That is until I feel the couch dip with the weight of someone sitting down. I turn my head to look at Levi who is crossing his legs.

            “You don’t resent me now, do you?” He says it in a low, impassionate voice that makes me think that he doesn’t really care what my answer is.

            “For what? Locking me in the apartment when the MPs were on their way?” I swore to myself that I wasn’t bitter about any of that shit anymore, but it’s hard to let go of bitterness.

            Levi seemed to think the same way because he says, “So, that’s a yes?”

            A sigh escapes me as I lay my head in my hands. “No, I don’t resent you. I resent the situation.” Dry washing my face, I look over to see him staring at the wall and the many pictures hanging there. He doesn’t seem to be focusing on one in particular; just staring blankly, like it might give him some answers.

            “I didn’t think it’d get that far.” His voice is quiet, and I’m almost convinced that he didn’t want me to hear him.

            I don’t comment on it. It’s best that this conversation is buried and forgotten. There’s no point in going through the _what ifs_ and the _could’ve dones._ It’s in the past, and luckily, none of us got hurt. I can’t say the same for the MPs laying dead on Levi’s floor with their brains splattered against the wall.

            At least I know one thing that gives me _some_ peace of mind. Mikasa is safe. She’s with Jean and Marco, and I know exactly where that is. It’s fucking far away, but at least she’s alive. I only wish there was a way to tell her that I’m okay, too. She’s probably worried out of her mind right now. What if she does something stupid? _Mikasa? Do something stupid?_

            I shake my head, trying to clear the ridiculous thoughts that threaten to drown me. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this. Are we just going to stay here? Copped up in this messy apartment? Just the thought makes me want to puke.

“We have a plan,” Erwin mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear. I raise my head to see him glance behind him momentarily to look at me. He quickly goes back to working on Armin’s leg. “We’re planning to leave Sina. There’s a safe place over the wall.”

The wall was the term for the only entrance – and exit – of the city. It was a giant tower where armed guards stand watch 24/7. It’s impossible to sneak past them, so Erwin just sounds suicidal right now. _Leaving Sina?_ It sounds crazy in and of itself. No one even knows what’s outside of the city.

“We’ve been scouting the outside of the city a little bit at a time,” Erwin starts, wrapping up Armin’s leg and finishing it off with some medical tape. _Can this guy please just get out of my head?_ There’s an unnerving feeling crawling up my spine, and the frustration threatens to break my resolve of keeping calm. “We’ve found a safe house far enough away that we’ll be safe.”

“How the hell did you get past the wall?” I ask, trying to keep my head from spinning.

Surprisingly, it’s not Erwin that answer, but Levi. “There’s an abandoned maintenance tunnel that no one’s filled in yet. A lot of Clairs have already used it to escape the city, so it’s reliable. But no one knows how long it’s going to be there. If word gets out to the MPs about it, then it’ll be closed for good. So, we need to leave as soon as possible.” He looks like he’s resigned himself to the fact that we’re sticking around, although he doesn’t look too happy about it. I could honestly care less.

“I guess anything beats staying in the city,” I mumble. “Where is this safe house anyway?”

Levi snorts, looking away incredulously. “We’ll let you know when we arrive.”

Erwin rolls his eyes, annoyed with Levi’s answer. “We can’t exactly trust you yet. It’s nothing personal, but we’ve heard… rumors about the MPs doing things to Clairs. We just need to make sure that you and your friends are one hundred percent trustworthy.”

_Well, I guess that makes sense._

Erwin smiles and looks up to Armin sitting in front of him. “How’re you doing?”

Armin looks a little lost, looking at Erwin without a thing to say. “Good,” he says, after a moment of thought. Armin’s always been good with people, and seeing him searching for things to say makes me feel a little uneasy.

Before I have time to think too much about it, Hange decides to stroll in with a couple cans. “Couldn’t find that much in the fridge, but I got beans!” Hange tosses a can to each person, and I don’t even think I like beans, but I’m so hungry that I don’t care. If it’s edible, I’m eating it. Levi excuses himself to wash his hands, which is weird, but he’s not my main focus right now. My focus is on the canned deliciousness in my hands.

“Eren,” Erwin blurts, setting down his can. I hum in acknowledgement, mouth too full to properly answer. “We’ll go find your sister when the sun goes down. That way our chances of being caught are less likely.”

Swallowing a mouthful of beans, I ask, “What time is it now?”

“Almost six,” Hange answers, not bothering to swallow and giving us all a full view of the chewed content in their mouth.

“That’s disgusting, four-eyes.” Levi clicks his tongue in disgust, but he doesn’t say anything else. “Sun should be heading down soon, we’ll leave in half an hour?”

“That wouldn’t be wise,” Erwin responds, setting his can to the side. “We’re travelling at night because it makes it easier to slip away into the shadows. If we’re in a large group, we’ll have a harder time blending in. And if, God forbid, we get caught, this whole thing is pointless.” Levi hums in agreement, pushing his fork around in his can, never really eating anything.

            My eyebrows furrow. _They were_ _planning on coming with me? Seriously?_ “I can go out to get my sister by myself,” I start, though I can see Erwin shaking his head already. “I don’t need you guys to put your life on the line for me _again._ I know where Jean lives. I can go out by myself.”

            “ _What are you? Suicidal?”_ Levi’s talking in Marian again, and the other three people in the room lift their eyebrows simultaneously.

            “ _Maybe…”_ I can’t say anything else. Literally, my repertoire in Marian doesn’t exceed past normal conversational words. It took me a moment to figure out that Levi said ‘suicidal.’ In response, he only sighs heavily, setting the unfinished can of beans to the side. He stands up and just walks out of the room. He doesn’t say anything else.

            “Eren, you’re not going alone,” Hange states, leaving no room for argument. “I think Erwin would be more useful to you in this situation. He’s got a passive clair, and that could help with avoiding conflict rather than heading straight on if a situation were to arise.”

            Erwin nods, “That’s what I was thinking.”

            “What about Levi?” _Where the hell did that come from?_ Whatever. Roll with it. “He’s kinda got a clair that works both ways.”

            “Levi’s overexerted himself today,” Erwin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’ll never show it, but he’s exhausted. To be honest, I don’t even think he could walk all the way to wherever Jean lives. He’s pushed himself more in the last twelve hours than he has for the past year.”

            _Oh._

“So, it’s decided then?” Hange gathers up the cans littering around their apartment. “Erwin’s gonna go with you.” And with those words, they leave the same way Levi did.

           

 

            The orange and pink sunset looks like a collage of vomit. Its last light dying behind the city horizon is the ugliest thing I’ve seen in a while. At least it’s dark enough to ignore it, and as Erwin and I travel along the edges of back allies and side roads, that’s exactly what I do. Ignore it. We haven’t said a word to each other since we left Hange’s apartment twenty minutes ago. There’s nothing to say as I quietly lead the way to Jean’s high-end house. It’ll take about an hour to walk from Shiganshina east-side to Trost south-side. And I told Erwin as much before we left.

            Everything is silent besides the sound of our footsteps clopping against the cobblestone with ungraceful boots. It’s unnervingly quiet; not even the sounds of _life_ can get to us in the alleys. No news is good news, right? Well, it’s been the most uneventful stealth mission so far. And I find that having to look behind me to see if Erwin is still there seems to be slowing us down quite a bit. Peeking around every corner and not-so-smoothly tiptoeing around ourselves seems to be taking a chunk out of our schedule. By the time we get back, it’ll be sunrise.

            And it continues that way until we reach the entrance to Trost District. I’m shaking like a leaf because there’s _no way_ that we can somehow get out of this unscathed. Everything’s been working too perfectly for me to just _succeed._

            “What house is he in?” Erwin whispers out. It’s so dark now that I can’t see him. I can just make out the basic human silhouette to my right.

            “He’s all the way down this road. Just… follow me.” There’s a snort from behind me. Erwin wasn’t planning on doing anything else.

            The house was smaller than the others on the road, but still bigger than anything I’ve ever lived in. A flowery walkway winds all the way up to the front door, and the windows have beautiful burgundy shutters. It’s two stories high, and it’s simple. It isn’t flashy like the architectural puke fest next door. It’s just somewhere to call home, and it has no one to impress. I would’ve expected a little more from _Jean_ of all people, but this is what I’d like to call a pleasant surprise. He isn’t as much of a flashy asshole as I thought.

            Nerves flutter around in my stomach as I climb the steps to the front porch. Questions bounce around inside my head, filling me with doubt. _What if Mikasa’s gone to look for us? What if they aren’t even here? This is a setup. Everything is going too well for me._

            “We’re okay, Eren.” Erwin looks at me with a reassuring smile. I guess if there’s one thing better than a friend who can see the future, it’s a mind reader. “They’re inside,” he confirms.

            I steel myself, hardening my face into a grim line with some misguided hope that it will calm the pounding in my chest. Raising a clenched fist, I stiffly knock on the door. And everything is, once again, silent. There isn’t a sound of rushed footsteps coming to see who it is. There isn’t a breath being taken and slowly exhaled. It’s one of those times when time has completely _stopped,_ and it’s deepened my theory that time isn’t real.

            But the spell is short lived as the door creaks open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Thank you all so much for putting up with the long ass wait. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up much sooner, and not take a month to come out >.>  
> ALSO THIS STORY HIT 100 KUDOS!? WHAT!?  
> Thank you guys so much for all the support, it means the world to me!


	9. A Chat In A Cluttered House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Eren finally finds Mikasa... and has another existential crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALERT: I HAVE NOT EDITED THIS CHAPTER! READ AT THE EXPENSE OF YOUR OWN EYEBALLS!

Jean pulls the door open the rest of the way launches himself forward, tackling me to the ground. Splayed on my back with arms wrapped tightly around my waist, I struggle to huff out a laugh.  _ They’re O.K.  _ Relief swells in my chest, and I don’t even care that Jean basically body slammed me on his front porch. As long as all of them are okay. A smile plasters itself on my face as I hug him back. All the while, Erwin stares down at us with a curious look on his face. I’d probably be embarrassed about it if I wasn’t so incredibly  _ happy  _ at the moment. 

“You’re an asshole, Yeager, you know that?” Jean sniffles and pulls back. His eyes look red and puffy, and I can’t help but laugh out loud. 

The whole thing seems so surreal, and happiness was not in my repertoire for the last twelve hours. Right now, everything just seems  _ right.  _ Everyone is safe, and that’s all I could ask for. But these feelings weren’t meant to last, were they? It’s just something for  _ them  _ to take away from me. It might not happen now, or even soon, but it will happen. The one dubious thought is not enough to distract me from the small, “Eren?” I hear coming from the doorway. 

I’m being tackled again, but this time by a very teary-eyed Mikasa, who can’t control her sobs of relief. Jean runs back into the house - probably to get Marco - and he leaves Mikasa and me on the porch… with Erwin of course. 

She’s muttering words, but I can barely hear them through relieved sniffles. The only thing I can make out is, “...OK?”

“It’s okay, ‘Kasa, really. I’m fine.” I try to give her a reassuring smile, but it only makes new tears well up in her eyes, and she hugs me fiercely. All the breath is squeezed out of me, and she takes a shuddering breath. 

“What happened, Eren? When I first saw the apartment, a couple hours ago, I went right to the place Armin told you about.” A look of confusion crosses my face. “You told me about his vision last night.”  _ Had it really only been a day since the talk in the living room? _ “Building 4, apartment 77. I  _ went  _ there, only to see four dead bodies on the floor.” A sob cracks her voice. “You weren’t there. I thought you’d be there. And the MPs… And you and Armin weren’t...” Her voice is quiet,and even though she’s right next to my ear, I can barely hear her. She’s not ready to let go yet, but I can see her look up to Erwin. She turns her head from side to side before unknowingly squeezing me a little tighter. “Where’s Armin?” 

“He’s…”  _ Fine? Alright?  _ “He’s alive.” Mikasa doesn’t move. She tenses up and waits for the bad news which she already knows I have. “He’s been shot in the leg. He can barely walk.” There’s an exhale, and I don’t know if it’s from relief that it could’ve been worse or she was just holding her breath for something worse. “It’s hard to explain what happened and why it happened, ‘Kasa. But everyone is safe for now.” 

She pulls away from me and wipes her eyes on her sleeve. Nodding, she gives me a watery smile before standing up and helping me to my feet. Her arms wrap around me one more time, and there’s one more sniffle. I never want to hear this again. I never want to  _ see  _ this again. I never want to walk up to Mikasa and see that she’s been crying. That’s not my sister.  The person I know is stoic and almost dispassionate. She doesn’t let her emotions be so openly displayed for anyone to see. That’s not the person I know, and it scares me to see her like this. It scares me even more that  _ Jean  _ of all people was upset. I mean, I didn’t expect him to be  _ elated  _ about it, but to  _ cry?  _ He’s surprised me more in the last week than the entire year I’ve known him. 

Speaking of the devil, he walks out holding the hand of Marco, who only gives me a smile. That’s to be expected. I didn’t know Marco that well, so obviously he wouldn’t be that upset if I died. He was probably more upset with a grieving boyfriend than anything else 

Only now, does anyone notice Erwin, who has politely taken a step back, and let us continue with our little scene. “We…” Erwin starts, but he’s cut off when Mikasa and Jean jump in front of me. Mikasa’s eyes are cold, while Jean’s seem to be red with fury. They’re ready for a fight, and if I lose Erwin now, we’re all screwed. 

“Guys, stop!” I shout, trying to keep it from echoing across the neighborhood. The absolute  _ last  _ thing that we need is someone calling the police. My words do nothing to stop their actions. They’re unleashing their own rapid fire questions, giving him no time to answer in between. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m-” 

“Where did you find Eren?” 

“He-” 

“Are you working with the MPs.” 

“N-” 

“I don’t-” 

“Would you guys shut the fuck up for ten seconds and actually let him answer the questions?” A furious huff makes it’s way past my lips, as I cross my arms over my chest like a petulant child. They should know better; have a little bit more respect at least! Erwin saved my life, probably more than once. I’ve sort of lost count of how many times I’ve died or not. So, let’s say that Erwin saved my life at least  _ twice  _ by now. 

The sudden outburst seems to get their attention for now. Mikasa purses her lips and turns her cold gaze on Erwin, waiting for answers. The person in question only looks around the neighborhood, eyes darting from one house to the other, trying to find something only he’s looking for. He turns back to me, and I can see something in his eyes, but I’ve come to figure something out about Erwin: He doesn’t show anything if he doesn’t want to, and if something does slip through, it’s not there for long. 

“Can we go inside and talk about this?” He asks, looking to Jean. 

Jean bites his lip, turning to Marco. “Of course,” Marco says, glowing brightly. “Any friend of Eren’s is a friend of ours.” I see Erwin’s eyes narrow marginally, but it’s only for a split second. He nods curtly and follows Marco into the house. 

The house looks smaller on the inside, but that’s probably attributed to the clutter. There’s too many houseplants to count, and the number of books stacked in corners and on table is unreal. I never knew Jean was such a bookworm. Marco leads us past all of that and takes us to the dining room. Dust lines the edges of the table, and this room seems just as cluttered as the rest of the house. The bookshelf in the corner is overflowing. Papers filled with doodles and sketches are scattered all over the table. Curiously, I pick one up. 

It’s a sketch of two wings overlapping each other, one light gray and the other a solid black. Something in my head clicks into place. It looks familiar, but I can’t tell you where I’ve seen it before. Before I have the chance to ask, Jean snatches it away, looking like I’d just offended him. “Mind your own business, Yeager,” he mumbles with no real bite to it. He folds the paper and stuffs it into his pocket. He then gets to work, scooping up all of the papers into his arms as he carries it out of the room. 

“Please, make yourself at home,” Marco says, after we’ve all entered the room. 

Once we’re all seated, Mikasa is the first one to speak. “Who are you?” She’s looking across the table at the one person she doesn’t know. 

“My name is Erwin Smith.” There’s a slight edge to his voice. He’s nervous, and he doesn’t have a problem letting everyone know that. 

“I don’t care about your name,” Mikasa spits, and I can’t help but be taken aback by her tone. I can understand distrusting someone because you don’t know who they are, but Mikasa’s tone was a little more than distrusting. “ _ Who  _ are you?” 

Erwin seems a little bit lost, not knowing where to start. “I’m the one that lived in 77.” And that’s all he has to say because Mikasa’s eyes soften, and she leans back in her chair. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m assuming that you also helped Armin?” She phrases it like a question, trying to blow up his ego, thinking  _ maybe  _ he’ll let something slip. I know my sister, and she’s more strategic than people give her credit for. 

“I patched him up, but there wasn’t really anything else I could do. He was unconscious when Eren brought him to the apartment, and at that point, I had no idea what was going to happen. He could’ve died, and if he did, I’m sure we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

Mikasa hums at the stone-faced Erwin sitting across from her. “Then I owe you thanks-” 

“No,” he says, brusquely. “Not until I know that he’ll be alright.” 

“He won’t?” 

Erwin sighs heavily, dry washing his face with his hands. I know that he’s having trouble with all of this, but if he’s going to gain Mikasa’s trust then he has to. I didn’t really expect Erwin getting involved like he is now. I was simply going to ask them if they’d come back with us, leave the city with us, and that’d be it. But Mikasa, as well as Jean, hasn’t been through what me and Armin have been through. They don’t know what Erwin and Levi and Hange have done for us, so how can they trust them completely? 

“Anything can happen. It could get infected or his concussion could get worse. In this world, you just don’t know  _ anything  _ for certain.” Mikasa nods. “And with the journey we’re planning-” 

“Journey?” Jean questions, raising an eyebrow. 

“We’re planning on leaving Sina…” There’s a pregnant pause. Everything seems to stop. Everything they want to say is floating in the air around us. I can almost see everyone inhale sharply. 

Mikasa is the first to speak. “How do you plan to do that?” 

“Well, you see-” 

“Eren,” Erwin cuts me off, looking at me pointedly. “We can’t  _ tell  _ you.” His gaze flicks briefly over to Marco, who doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy looking at Jean, his eyebrows furrowing and his forehead creasing. 

Apparently,  _ that  _ was _ not  _ what Mikasa wanted to hear. “ _ You  _ can’t trust  _ us _ ? Yet, you still want us to come with you? How does that work? You talk about how you can’t trust us, but you expect us to just drop our lives here and go with someone who was  _ nice  _ to my brother. No! Trust works both ways, Erwin Smith, and you’ve done nothing so far to earn ours.” She lays her hands on the table, standing up and leaning over to look Erwin in the eyes. I’ve never seen her get this angry before, but the stress from the day must be really tearing into her. I can see where she’s coming from, honestly, but  _ I  _ trust Erwin. That has to be good for something. 

Erwin’s face doesn’t give anything away, though. He doesn’t look like he’s going to try and prove himself to her. “Mikasa,” I start, hoping no one will cut me off this time. “You don’t have to trust Erwin. Trust  _ me. _ ” 

“Eren,” she says, and I’m again taken aback by her almost mocking tone. “You’re my brother, and I love you. But-”  _ Oh, my God.  _ “Because I love you, I’m going to be honest and tell you that your judgment is not a deciding factor in this.” 

“What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” My lips turn down in a frown as Mikasa squeezes her eyes shut and rubs her temples. 

“We don’t  _ know  _ this person! For all we know, he could’ve used some sort of brainwashing to get you to trust him.” I give her an incredulous look. “The point is, we don’t know where you’ve been. We don’t  _ know  _ what’s happened. Anything could’ve happened.” 

There’s sweat forming on my brow. I must look like a wreck, and I am a wreck. Just the thought of that being true makes me want to break out into tears. If I didn’t know what Levi’s clair was, I would’ve told Mikasa that she was crazy, but the fact of the matter is that what she’s saying is entirely  _ possible. _ Even I can’t trust myself with my own knowledge. I want to believe that what I’ve seen today is  _ all  _ true, but I can’t. I don’t know which way is right anymore, and I just want to get out of this house that’s become too cluttered. 

I find my eyes travelling to Erwin, who’s shaking his head. “What can I do to prove myself to all of you?” He meets my gaze, and he gives another shake of his head. 

Mikasa looks thoughtful for a moment. “Tell us how you plan to leave the city.” 

“He’s told  _ me _ -” 

“He could’ve  _ lied  _ to you.” 

“He can lie to you, too!” I point out, almost accusingly. I’m so sick of questioning everything in life. I want to be certain on something,  _ anything.  _ I’ve decided that the one thing I’m going to believe in is Erwin Smith. He’s been nothing but kind to me and Armin, and he doesn’t deserve any of my dubious thoughts.

“Yeah,” Mikasa sighs. “But I’ll know if he’s lying or not.” 

“There’s a maintenance tunnel that hasn’t been filled in yet….” His gaze drifts over to a certain freckled angel again. “We’re escaping through there.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I can’t tell you that.” Erwin’s mouth is set in a firm line. He’s not budging. I’m surprised he stayed so long. But if Mikasa says that she doesn’t trust him one more time, he’s leaving. He’s made that clear in his body language. The way he sits with his hands on the table, leaning forward ready to bolt. And I wouldn’t blame him. He doesn’t even have to be here right now. He could just leave Mikasa and me here, hung out to dry, serving us up to the MPs on a silver platter, but Erwin wouldn’t. And that’s why I trust him. 

“Why not?” 

“There are too many ears listening to us.” 

Mikasa freezes, her eyes lock onto Erwin. She’s being careful, not letting her gaze travel. “When are we leaving?”  _ We?  _ She’s decided then. She’s going with us. 

“As soon as we leave this house and get back to Hange’s apartment.” 

“Who’s Hange?” 

“My friend. They and Levi are waiting for me and Eren to return, so we can leave as soon as possible.” Erwin leans back a little, keeping a microscopic eye on Marco. Unease has started to settle over me, but it’s not my main concern right now. “You see, when we were deciding this, it was just the three of us. Now, we have seven-” 

“Eight,” Jean mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“Apologies, eight,” Erwin says lowly. “We can’t all go as one giant group. We’ll have to split up as to not draw attention to ourselves. What I need to know is: are you willing to do what we say, and not argue with instructions.” 

Mikasa narrows her eyes. “I’ll do what I have to to get my family out of the city. I might not agree with you, but I’ll follow your lead. We’ll play by your rules, you have my word.” 

Erwin stands up, his hands leaving the table. “Then we need to go. Now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!   
> I've been really sick, and then there's school, and blah blah blah no one really cares.   
> Anyway, this chapter was the product of actively slamming my sick head against the keyboard.   
> I hope you enjoy.   
> Next chapter should be out sometime before the year 2091


	10. When Angels Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eren doesn't know what he wants.

Is this what I want? The question seems so surreal as I struggle to keep up with the fast pace that Erwin and Mikasa have set for us. Is this what I want? Do I want to run everywhere all the time? Do I want to be scared every time we take a corner? Do I want to know what’s on the other side of the apartment door as we open it anyway? Do I constantly want to second guess my decisions?

Is this what I want?

The answer is no if you must know. I don’t want this. What I want is to have everything handed to me. I want my freedom. I want to be safe. I want my family to be safe. And I don’t want to have to work for it because why the hell would I have to? I am a human being who deserves all of these things. I don’t deserve to die. I don’t deserve to be hunted and slaughtered like game. I want a life. 

And right now, I’m working for it. 

Mikasa, Jean, and Marco are all standing in the middle of the apartment, shuffling their weight. They look uncomfortable as Levi stares them down. I don’t know what I was expecting from him, but it certainly wasn’t the silent treatment. He seems to be doing better, though. His eyes are less glossy than before we left, and he doesn’t seem to be swaying every time he stands up, which I can only count as a good sign. 

Armin’s sitting on the couch, discussing something with Erwin. And I’m standing in the corner with Hange, not really sure what to do with myself. Hange is considerably quiet, watching over the new people in the apartment a little more inconspicuously than Levi. They’re pinching their chin with a furrow in their brow. They’re thinking a little too loudly for my liking. 

“What are you thinking about?” It’s far too hard to ignore. 

“Erwin said there would only be seven of us traveling.” I can feel my own eyebrows knitting together as I try to piece together their words. I know what they mean, but strung together my brain doesn’t seem to be connecting in the right place to make them make sense. 

“What do you mean?” Hange sighs, shaking their head. 

“I don’t know.” They give me a toothy grin, their lips pulling up into something eerie, but not unnerving. “I guess I mean that Erwin’s never been wrong about something like this before, and it’s only fascinating that he’d be wrong now.” 

“Alright, listen up!” The voice carries across the room, and my head snaps to the side where Levi has started to pace from one side of the room to the other. He looks so military that I almost want to laugh. The serious expression on his face paired with his socked feet and unbuttoned shirt is a sight that’s hard not simply giggle. “We’re leaving tonight. Objections?” 

Jean makes an unappreciative sound, but Levi cuts it off before it can get any farther. “That was a rhetorical question, you piece of-” 

Erwin coughs surreptitiously, effectively cutting Levi off from the derogatory remark. Levi simply stands up a little straighter. “If anyone has a problem with any part of this plan, then you are more than welcome to just stay in the city.” He narrows his eyes when he looks at Jean. “Is that understood?” Jean shakes his head. 

“As I was saying, we’re leaving tonight. Only three of us were planning to head out this evening, and our size has more than doubled. What that means is we’ll have to split into groups to avoid being so easily noticeable. Since only three out of the eight of us know where we’re actually going, there will be three groups. Erwin’s group-” Levi stops his pacing and stand in front of Jean. “-will be you and Armin.” 

“But-” Jean is looking helplessly at Marco, who only smiles in return. 

“No  _ buts.  _ This is the way things are going to be done if we want to be successful in this escape.” I can see Levi’s lips turn down even more. He’s not happy with what the situation has come to, but he also seems like he doesn’t want to change anything. He’s not backing down on this plan to help us. 

I know one thing for certain. If I were in his shoes, I would’ve been extremely less patient. “Hange!” They snap to attention, raising a hand to their forehead in a mocking salute. Levi doesn't seem to notice. “You’ll have Mikasa.” 

Mikasa opens her mouth, ready to spit out that she’s not going to leave without me, but I catch her eye first. Shaking my head firmly, I try to tell her through my look that this is the only way we’re guaranteed success. Levi, Erwin, and Hange have been planning this for a while now, and we’re just walking in on them. It’s a miracle they’re even helping us, and I don’t want to blow this chance to get out of Shiganshina, out of  _ Sina,  _ because my sister couldn’t just go with the flow for once in her life. 

She seems to get the hint because her mouth promptly shuts. 

“That means Eren and Jean’s friend is with me.” He looks at me through narrowed eyes, almost daring me to complain. If he’s looking for a fight, then I’m sorry to disappoint because there is no way that I’m going to argue with the man who can kill someone with just his thoughts. 

Nodding with approval, Levi sits down on the couch. “I thought you said we were leaving tonight!” Jean yells as soon as Levi’s butt hits the cushion. “You’re sitting down.” 

Levi’s head snaps to the side, his face devoid of any emotion. I don’t know how he does it. Jean’s little temper tantrums throughout the night have had me ready to burst at the seams, but Levi is taking it all in stride. “We are leaving tonight, you ass,” Levi replies cooly. “But we can’t all leave at once. That just negates the point of splitting into groups.” 

Erwin slings a pack over his shoulder. “We’ll be the first to leave.” He wraps an arm around Armin’s waist and helps him hobble to the door. 

“Wait.” I’m surprised by myself, but I can’t let them walk out of the door without saying something, anything. 

But I don’t get the chance because Armin just smiles and says, “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?” I nod, the unexpected lump in my throat preventing me from saying anything. I wish I could, and I hate myself for only nodding.

Marco gives Jean a tight, quick hug and a reassuring smile, and the three of them are out of the door before I can even blink twice.

It feels wrong. It feels like someone just stabbed me in my chest with an icicle because two of my closest friends just walked out of the door, and I couldn’t find it in myself to say goodbye.

“You know,” Levi says, appearing beside me. My gaze snaps from the closed door to him. “It’s good you didn’t say goodbye.” I study his profile, but his face stays completely blank and unreadable.

“I thought Erwin was the mind-reader,” I reply, daring not to rise to the worm he’s obviously trying to bait me with.

“It doesn’t take a mind-reader to know what you’re thinking, kid. You’re an open book.” He turns toward me, eyes meeting mine in that uncanny way. I want to look away, but in this light, his eyes are a steel color that has my attention wrapped. “Saying goodbye means you think you’ll never see them again, and we both know that’s not true.”

“Anything could go wrong.” I mumble it more to myself than to him. I know I’m right. In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve been stabbed, beaten, and shot at. Right now, my life is like a roll of the one-hundred-sided dice. There're a million outcomes, and the only one who could predict just _one_ of them has walked out the door.

“With that attitude, everything _will_ go wrong,” Levi huffs as he turns around and walks back into the living room, arms crossed over his chest.

A little laugh escapes my throat, and I’m so thankful that no one is around to hear it. I just never pegged Levi as an optimist, but here he is, preaching about having the right attitude. It’s endearing in a way that’s terrifying. Only, everything’s terrifying to me right now. The luck of the draw has never been what I excel at, and just because my life’s been flipped on its head doesn’t mean that Lady Luck is going to take pity on me.

There’s also something in my gut that’s telling me that this is just the beginning. Something’s going to happen, and it’s going to be big. Whether that something is good or bad, I have no idea. I just want my family and myself to make it out of this _alive._

I shake my head. I’d promised myself earlier that I wouldn’t dwell on the future. I wouldn’t worry about every little thing. I’d just have to take the cards as they come my way. I have to play the hand I’m dealt.

As I walk toward the living room, I can’t help but remember that I’ve never had a very strong poker face.

“Eren,” Mikasa scoots over and pats the seat beside her. I sit. She’s leaving with Hange in about an hour, and I want to spend as much time with her as I possibly can. Marco and Levi are across the room, Levi with a book and Marco with a blank stare and a wall. Hange has gone off somewhere, muttering about packing their stuff.

Mikasa places her head on my shoulder, and I lean into her. “Whatever happens,” she starts, and I already know what she’s going to say. “I want you to take care of yourself.”

“’Course, ‘Kasa.”

“Eren, I mean it. You always put others before yourself. You’re always looking for a way to make sure everyone gets out alive. You’re a good person because of that, but you need to realize that you can’t save everyone.”

My eyebrows furrow and my lips are opening and closing, my brain searching for something to say. “I don’t know how this is going to turn out,” she continues, “but I just want to make sure that you don’t do anything stupid and get yourself killed. Just promise me one thing?” I don’t say anything, just listen, waiting for her to go on. “When push comes to shove, just run. Don’t look after anyone else. Just go like the devil himself was chasing you. Promise me, Eren.”

She lifts her head and looks me in the eyes. If push were come to shove, could I just run? Could I promise her that? I know I can’t. I know that if something were to happen, I wouldn’t think about myself. I have the self-preservation of a walnut.

But Mikasa is looking at me with those almond shaped eyes, and I also know that I can’t tell her no. I can’t tell that. I only have a limited amount of time with her, and what did promises mean nowadays. So, with a cold stone in my stomach, I tell her, “I promise.” 

It seems like only minutes has passed, but Hange is stampeding through the room, throwing a rucksack at Mikasa and telling her it’s time to go. I want to argue. I want to stamp my foot on the ground like I used to a decade and a half ago and scream, “No fair!” But I can’t. I just give Mikasa’s hand a final squeeze and shove her toward Hange. I don’t bother to say goodbye. I  _ will  _ see her again. There’s no way in hell that I won’t.

And they’re off. Not even a trace of them to convince me that they were ever here.

The only ones left are me, Marco, and Levi, sitting in the living room, waiting until it’s our turn to face the music.

Marco’s leg is tapping on the ground anxiously, and if I were less perceptive, I wouldn’t have seen Levi’s eyebrow twitch in vague annoyance.

“The apartment’s too quiet,” I think out loud, trying to fill the silence that I’d just noticed. Without Hange here, the space feels too empty, even with the various assortments of papers and books. It looks too still and eerie.

Levi sets down his book although doesn’t say anything. Marco’s knee stops bouncing as he turns his head to look at Levi. My statement goes without a reply but not ignored.

“Where are we going?” Marco asks, after a beat of silence. Levi’s head snaps to the person beside him.

“Does it matter?” His voice is gravelly and there’s something lilting about it. His head is cocked to the side, eyebrow raised into his hairline. “If we get out of the city, and we’re far away, does it matter where we’re going?”

Marco swallows, his face draining of color. “I-I just w-wanted to know-w.” My eyes instantly narrow, suspicion crawling its way up my spine like a cold snake. My heart picks up the pace in my chest, hurtling itself against my ribs, trying to break free from its enclosure. Maybe if he didn’t stutter, he could’ve escaped my suspicions.

And Levi’s by the looks of it. “Tell me the truth.” From across the room, I can see his eyes white out, and I can hear his voice take on that familiar timbre. It echoes around the room like a siren. “Why are you asking.”

Marco’s lips tremble, and his breath comes out in a shaky exhale. “No.” His voice is weak and shaking. His eyes are watering, but I don’t think it’s because he’s sad. He’s trying to fight Levi’s control, but in the process, he’s answering his questions anyway. Shaking, he tries to hold back the spew of word-vomit that’s about to make its way past his lips.

“Tell me!” Levi’s voice drops an octave or two, making him sound more like a demon than an actual person. His eyes are blazing with what I can tell is fury and my stomach rolls. I’m going to be sick.

“I needed to get close to Jean! They sent me with him in hopes that I’d find out something like this.” Marco’s eyes screw shut tightly, hand clapping over his mouth.

“Who sent you?”  _ Like he really needs to ask. _

Marco shakes his head, tears freely streaming down his cheeks. “Please…” Levi tangles a hand in his hair and throws him to the ground. He’s on his feet like lightning, striking once, happening so fast, I can’t tell where it landed.

“Who. Sent. You?”  

“The Military Police,” Marco sobs.

“Dammit!” Levi curses, his voice returning to how it was before. I’m frozen in place on the couch, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene unraveling before me. This isn’t really happening, is it? My whole body has gone cold, and my breathing becomes erratic.

“Who’ve you told about this plan?” Levi shouts.

“No one!”

Levi snatched him up by the collar, and I’m afraid he might hit him again, but he flips him over onto his stomach. He then reaches toward the hem of the shirt and rips out a chunk of it. The sound fills the room with only Marco’s sobbing to keep it company. With nimble fingers, Levi turns the piece of fabric over in his hands until his nail catches something. He rips the small, black thing out and holds it up to the light.

“Is that-“ I don’t want to say it. I  _ can’t  _ say it. It’s the worst thing that could possibly happen in this moment, and I  _ don’t want to say it. _

Levi spares me. “It’s a bug.” His voice is unnervingly calm. “They’ve chipped him. They’re probably on their way here.”

“But-“

“He didn’t lie.” Levi’s eyes focus in on the boy sobbing in front of him. “He didn’t tell anyone. That doesn’t mean they didn’t hear.”

“We have to go.” My whole body is shaking as I grab one of the packs. “We have to go right now.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Levi spits. “But we can’t just leave him here. He has our descriptions. He has information that could be absolutely critical later on.”

_ “We can’t just kill him!” _

_ “Why not?” _ There’s a look in Levi’s eyes. It’s maniacal. It makes my heart leap into my throat.  _ “Why not?” _ He repeats.

“Please!” Marco cries.

_ “Can’t you just make him forget or something?” _ I’m near hysterics. I haven’t known Marco that long, but this ache in my chest can’t deny the wrath that betrayal brings. My hands tangle in my hair, and my thoughts are non-existent. There flitting in and out of my brain so fast that it’s hard to grab onto one and hold it.

_ “I don’t have time to sit here and explain my clair to you, but no, I can’t!” _ It’s turned into a yelling match, and I know that it’s all brought on by the stress that the clock is ticking.  _ “He needs to die, Eren!” _

_ “Fuck!” _ It’s the only word I can think of, and it’s only now that I’m realizing that we just had that whole conversation in Marian.

Levi leans down to look Marco in the eyes, and my stomach rolls. I’m going to puke. I have to leave. I can’t be here anymore. I stomp to the kitchen, but even then I can still hear him. I can still hear the lilt in his voice as he says, “Marco, stop breathing.”  _ Is this what I want?  _


	11. The Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Levi finally get out of Sina, but at what cost?

I don’t remember leaving the apartment, and I definitely don’t remember the trip to the tunnel. All I can remember is sobbing, vision blurring from tears as Levi tried quietly to soothe me with shushes. I remember him peeking around walls and waving me forward, but that’s the extent of it. It took thirty minutes to get to the tunnel, and I can’t recall anything in the time frame of those thirty minutes. 

The maintenance tunnel was nothing more than a hole in the ground. And old rusted door sits wide open, and Levi scoffs. “Fucking glasses.” 

My breathing is coming in ragged, twisting through my lungs and crushing them. Every time I blink, I can see Marco sobbing on the floor. I don’t know what I’m more upset about, the fact that Levi just killed him like he wasn’t a human being or the fact he betrayed us. I don’t know if I’m upset because I  _ trusted  _ him or the fact that the MPs could be on their way here right now. I can’t breathe. Tears have stained my cheeks, and my sleeve is soaked trying to wipe at my nose. 

The door slams shut making me jump. “Eren,” Levi says, hands on my shoulders, shaking me slightly. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to look into those hardened eyes and realize that I'm walking a dangerous line here. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. “You need to calm down.” 

In a single second, I push him away from me. Bile and disgust crawling up my throat. “Calm down?” My voice is raspy, and I double over in a dry heave, thanking any deity that the beans didn’t make an appearance. “You fucking killed him.” 

“We don’t have time for this, Eren,” Levi growls. He tries to stand up straight, but I can see his hand shaking through my teary gaze. I wonder how much of his energy he spent killing Marco.  _ He didn’t deserve to die.  _ It’s the only thing I’m thinking, and I can’t think of anything else as much as I try to. “We have to leave, put some distance between us and them.” 

“Don’t you think I know that?” His cold eyes soften just the tiniest bit when I meet his gaze. His fingers clench into fists, trying to stop them from shaking. 

I sniff, straightening my back. I need to calm down, if for just a little while. I need to calm my thoughts just to get out of this damn tunnel. It’s very small. The walls are suffocating, and Levi and I can’t even stand side by side. The smell invades my senses; it’s a mixture of mildew and dead things. I focus on it with all my strength because I can’t afford to get stuck inside my head right now. Once we’re safe and out of danger, I’ll allow myself to feel again, but right now, I can’t do anything. 

Levi’s in front of me, leading the way through the dark tunnel. He stays quiet, and the only thing to prove he’s there is his footsteps echoing off the wall. His shoulders are hunched in on himself, making him impossibly smaller. Sometimes he’ll stumble and throw out an arm to catch himself on the wall. 

I don’t help him. I know I should, but in this moment, I’m too distracted trying to be distracted. I’ve put distance between myself and my body, only giving my legs command to continue to go forward, to continue to follow Levi. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I don’t have to follow him anymore when I’m on my own. I’ve never been good at being alone. I’ve always had Mikasa and Armin, and now I have Levi and Erwin and Hange. It feels like I’m floating out into deeper waters, and everyone else is threatening to drift out a little farther. It’s not that I don’t want to follow them, to be safe with the family that’s helped me. I just don’t know if I can float out a little farther with them. I don’t know what lies beyond the reef, what’s waiting for me in deeper waters. I can’t see the horizon beyond the mountains of waves, and I realize now that I don’t think I want to. 

My socks are drenched in sludgy water, and there’s still a taste of acid in the back of my mouth. And I continue to walk onward because what choice do I have now? It feels like we’ve been walking for hours, and there hasn’t been any sign that we’re being followed. There aren’t any sounds of pursuit. Just the sounds of Levi’s footsteps and the  _ squish squelch  _ of my soggy socks.

“We’re almost there,” Levi says, and I’m left to wonder if he’s talking to me or himself. He doesn’t say anything else until we’re climbing the stairs to get out of the god-forsaken tunnel. The light hits my face when we open the door to the other side. The sun has come up, and it’s only now that I realize that I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours. My limbs feel like lead, and my brain keeps doing to the ramble-thought process where I can’t stay focused on one thing but rather think about everything. Is there a god? What is the essence of life? What happens when we die? Do we need to be saved? 

I can’t focus on one thing long enough to answer questions, but I feel if I dwell on them long enough, I’ll notice that I don’t have an answer anyway. 

The door opens to a concrete platform. There are walls made of tin on all four sides of us, and even though the space is bigger than inside the tunnel, I feel more cramped than ever. My wet feet scrape against the floor as we walk. Empty boxes and shrapnel litter the floor in an ugly, abstract pattern. There are windows tinted with grime and age, and I’m unable to see anything out of them. 

I don’t know how far the safe house is, but I’m one hundred percent certain that I’m not going to make it without passing out. 

“How much farther,” I ask, breathlessly. I don’t want to know the answer; I just want to have a conversation with another human being. Feeling isolated with only my thoughts is dangerous, and Levi is right there, able to help without realizing it. 

Levi doesn’t say anything, though. He just narrows his eyes and swings his head to the side, looking around. His eyes are dim and dead, letting nothing show in them. I can  _ feel _ a headache forming behind _his_ eyes. He’s exhausted himself. How long since  _ he’s  _ slept. 

“Eren,” he says my name in a whisper like he’s afraid of scaring me off. “I don’t know what to do.” There’s a frown on my face, and I can see him slump even further into himself with the admission. That’s when I see him for what he really is. He’s a  _ person,  _ trying to survive like the rest of us. He’s been put into a position where he has to make tough choices for the benefit of not only himself, but for me too. My heart aches for him.

However, in my sleep-deprived state, I had no answers for him. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know who to trust now.”  _ Oh.  _ He doesn’t trust me. How can he? I, unknowingly, brought a traitor into his innermost circle, reassuring him time and time again that everything was going to be okay. I’d  _ lied  _ to him and indirectly made him do what he did. Honestly, I wouldn’t trust me either. 

“How can I prove it to you?” It’s the only question I can think of, the only way to get through this is by putting the ball in his court.

“No, Eren,” he says, a sad smile playing on his lips. “It’s not you, I don’t trust. We’ve been through a lot together in the past day, and if you were lying to me, you’ve gone to the extremes… Unnecessary extremes.” 

“Then… who do you not trust?” My eyebrows knit together as I try to follow his train of thought. 

“Myself?” He doesn’t know. “There’s two possible outcomes to this. Either we make our way to the safe house and put everyone there in danger in case we’re being followed, or we walk around for a while and possibly get caught.” 

“We have strength in numbers.” 

“So do they. They might show up there with a small army. We might be strong together, but it doesn’t make a difference if they show up with ten times our amount. We have to be smart, and I don’t know why they put me in this position.” Levi stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

I know where he’s coming from, and if he can’t make the decision by himself, then I need to help. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few-” 

“Or the one, I’m aware.” He sighs, running his hands through his hair. “We both need sleep, and traveling in the daytime will be risky. We should find a place to hide and head out when it gets dark again.” 

I guess the exhaustion has finally caught up with him like it has with me. When we walk out of the abandoned warehouse, I find that we’re in the middle of a ghost town. Old streets with trash lining the edges, buildings with roofs caved in, and a smell that would gag a maggot on a gut wagon. Levi doesn’t seem bothered.

“Where are we going?” 

“We’re going to have to squat in one of these houses.” 

The thought of having to sleep here, in one of these buildings, makes my skin crawl, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

Ten minutes pass and the town is suspiciously quiet. Even though it’s early in the morning, I can’t even hear the birds chirping, much less a hoard of MPs coming to behead us. Maybe I’m just overthinking things, but every couple of minutes, I feel the hairs on my neck stand on end. I feel like I’m being watched, but every time I turn around, there’s nothing but the lonely road and a couple of dead buildings. I see Levi fidgeting with his shirt that still remains stark against the ugly landscape. He nervous, too. 

He takes a sharp right into a building that seems to be holding it’s own in this place. Its roof hasn’t caved in. The door hasn’t dry rotted right off the hinges. It doesn’t look brand new, like the broken windows and dirty bricks say, but it’s something one might find in the alleys of Shiganshina. Feeling nostalgic and a bit sad, I’m dragged into by Levi, who shuts the door and tries to lock it, only to find that the handle has come off in the process. 

“This will have to do.” He sounds resigned as he climbs the stairs. We find a room that’s in the middle of the building. No windows, no squeaking floor boards, nothing that might give away our location. It’s almost perfect… except there’s a giant hole in the ceiling, giving us a perfect view of the floor above us. I point to it, confused at how the fuck it had gotten there, but Levi only shrugs. 

“Could be our escape route.” 

He bends down and takes something out of his rucksack. The blanket is small and patchy. Holes and tears adorn it, but it doesn’t seem to take away from how comfortable it looks right now. My eyes are starting to water from the effort of trying to keep them open. Levi tosses the blanket toward me. 

“You get four hours, sleep tight.” He rummaging around again, trying to look for something.

“What about you?” I ask, sitting down and running the blanket over my fingers. 

“We can’t both sleep at the same time.” 

“Oh.” I don’t offer to take the first watch because, to be honest, I’d probably fall asleep without a second of hesitation. It’s better this way. I trust him to stay awake, and I’m immensely grateful that he’s not making me stay awake any longer. 

Suddenly the floor doesn’t seem as filthy as it had when I first walked it. It looks like the most comfortable place to spread out and fall asleep. Four hours, huh? Sounds like heaven to me. 

I don’t think I even had my eyes all the way closed before I drift off into what is probably the worst nightmare I’ve ever had. 

I don’t remember most of it, only snippets of faces and voices. “Leave me here.”  _ I can’t!  _ “Just run, Eren.”  _ Where?  _ “Stop breathing.” There’s no mind to control, to body to keep running with. Just empty promises because now that’s all I’m worth. There’s no knife to stab me, and there’s no angel to betray me. It’s empty like the ghost town I’ve fallen asleep in, and somehow that’s worse. I drift farther and farther out toward an unknown horizon and there’s no one there to keep me afloat. “Eren, I don’t know what to do. Eren, I don’t know who to trust. Eren. Eren.” 

“ _ Eren!”  _ I bolt upright flinging the blanket away from me. My eyes fly open, and Levi is staring at me millimeters away. His eyes are wide, and he’s pale. 

“What?” There’s a layer of sweat covering my forehead. What I wouldn’t give for a shower right now. My heart is hammering against my ribs as I try to no avail to control my breathing. 

Levi looks like he wants to say something, to ask if I’m alright, and I wish he wouldn’t. I don’t need to explain that I was having a nightmare like some child. It’s over now, and that’s all that matters. Levi opens his mouth. “Go back to sleep, brat. You still have two hours.” He scoots away from me and plants is back against the wall, staring up at the hole in the ceiling. 

I turn away from him, pulling the blanket back up to my chin. I don’t think I could go to sleep now even if I tried, so I stay awake until I feel my heart calm and my eyelids begin to droop once more. This time, I don’t dream at all, peaceful to just wander into oblivion. 

And I’m not awoken by Levi screaming at me. I’m gently pulled back into reality by the sound of a lullaby I thought I’d forgotten. I lie awake and listen to the soft words of the song my mother used to sing for me a million times. Marian floated around me, reminding me of home, of safety. Something that had slipped my memory a long time ago. I’m content to just sit there and listen in my sleepy haze.

 

“ _ Go to sleep now, darling angel. _

_ Lay your head down here and rest.  _

_ You’re the love I always had.  _

_ You’re the love that is my best. _

_ Go to sleep now, darling angel.  _

_ And have the most wonderful dreams. _

_ Don’t be afraid of the shadows. _

_ The darkness isn’t what it seems. _

 

_ You are protected here, _

_ Away from the evil-doers and sinners-” _

 

“Shit,” Levi says. I open my eyes to see his head in his hands. He’s forgotten how it goes. HIs voice breaks with that single word, and his hands shake.

 

“ _ Stay with me _

_ And I’ll protect you from the pretenders _

 

_ Who threaten to take away your freedom. _

_ I’ll hold you tighter  _

_ So you know you will wake up to infinite tomorrows _

_ And that the sun will be a little brighter. _

 

_ Now that I’m here with you, _

_ And the horizon’s so close _

_ There’s nothing to be afraid of. _

_ I’ll protect you from the shadows.” _

 

Levi stares at me, and I wonder if finishing the song is overstepping some invisible line that I didn’t even know what there. But then Levi smiles, and something flutters in my chest. We don’t say anything. I just silently sit down beside the place where he’s sitting as he stands up and gets under the blanket. I don’t realize that I’m humming the lullaby until after Levi’s breathing evens out as he falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I have this story planned out to a T, and everything that happens will be explained. Everything serves a purpose and is not done on a whim. With that, thank you to everyone who continues to read this :D I love every single comment and kudos, like it's amazing. You all are amazing. Thank you so much!


	12. Coded Names and Drawn-Out Dreams

An hour goes by without me even noticing. Sitting here, humming a song that I thought I’d forgotten, I’m left to wonder how Levi managed to drag that memory to the forefront of my mind. But it doesn’t last forever. Soon the song fades, and more dangerous thoughts start to creep into my head. 

At first, I don’t even notice. I’m just leaning against the wall, staring at the hole in the ceiling, thinking about my mother. Then Marco’s voice flutters into my head, telling me about how he first met Jean. My heart starts to stutter. What’s Jean going think about all of this? He’s going to go insane; he’s absolutely going to lose his mind. Would he even believe us? Would he want to? Would he run away from us in the attempts to find his dead lover? Would he be so wrapped up in his grief that he turns us in?

Was Jean also working with the MPs? Is that how they knew where to find me and Armin yesterday? Did Jean and Marco tell them where we were? What we were? Or was it just Marco, and Jean is just as much a victim as we are?

A shudder runs through my body as I try to take the questions and answer them all  _ very  _ carefully, mulling them over one by one until I’m running in circles with them. I can’t answer one without contradicting the answer to another. My head is starting to hurt, and I wish the lullaby would come back. Only, every time I try to sing, I get a sick feeling in my gut. Every time I look at Levi’s sleeping back I feel my head roll and my stomach heave. I find myself wishing that we’d found a better way to do things, some other way that resulted in Marco’s life not being taken from him. 

Before I know what’s happening, I feel tears start to roll down my cheeks.  _ I’m not crying,  _ I tell myself, although it’s very obvious I’m lying. I’ve survived almost twenty-three years, and I refuse to believe that my life has spiraled out of control  _ this  _ quickly. It had to have started sometime sooner than this. There’s absolutely  _ no way in hell  _ that it’s only taken a  _ day,  _ a single day, for my life to get this thoroughly fucked. 

I don’t even know what I’m crying about for sure. There’s Marco, and how his life was cut short. I don’t even care anymore what he did to us, he didn’t deserve to die. And if he did, who are we to decide such things? Then there’s the fact that I’ll possibly never see my family again. If Levi’s suspicions are right, we might get caught, and God knows what they’ll do to us if they catch us. 

I’m shaking, my brain going into overdrive. My face feels hot and cold, and I realize that even with Levi sleeping three feet away from me, I’m alone. I hate being alone. I hate that cold feeling in the pit of my stomach when I realize that the only thing keeping me from drowning is so far away from me. My family. I have no idea where they are, and I don’t know whether I should be happy or paranoid about that. Did they get there okay? Are they safe? 

There’s no certainty here, where I am. When you’re alone, there’s no one to answer your questions, even if they’re wrong answers. There’s no one to feed you the bullshit of safety, the bullshit that I’d been happy to receive and hold on to. It doesn’t make sense to anyone but me, and that, there, is truly the most isolating part of all of this.

Levi rolls over in his sleep. If it weren’t for the fact that his face is contorted with confusion and his eyes are rolling under his lids, I probably wouldn’t have noticed him at all. He’s talking in his sleep, well… more like mumbling. He’s dreaming.

“No…” I sniffle, trying to quiet myself, so I can listen to him. “You fucking idiot.” His voice is breaking like he’s almost going to cry. I lean forward, ready to wake him up. If he’s having a nightmare like I did, I don’t want him to suffer through that any longer than he has to. 

And that’s when he says, “You’re not gonna catch any fish by laying a net in the middle of the road.” 

I can’t help it. Suddenly, my tears of anguish turn into tears of laughter. I slap a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sounds coming out of my mouth. My sides hurt from laughing, and I’m gasping for breath. I fall to the ground, my shoulder taking most of the impact as Levi’s words play through my head over and over making it impossible to stop laughing. I guess not all of us can have nightmares every night. 

“What the fuck?” Levi shoots straight up, looking amazingly awake for someone who was just dreaming about fishing two seconds ago. He scrambles with the blanket as he tries to get closer to me. “Eren! Are you alright?” 

Gasping, I take one look at him and fall back into a fit of giggles. His eyebrows furrow in confusion once again as he realizes that, no, I’m not dying. I’m laughing. “Yeah,” I say through breaths and laughter. 

“Don’t do that, asshole.” His eyes are hard as he glares at me. “I thought you were panicking or something.” For some reason, it only serves to further my descent into insanity. I’m so emotionally strung out, and my life’s been flipped on its fucking head so  _ fast,  _ that the only way to express that emotional cluster-fuck is a brief fit of laughter at Levi. “What the fuck are you even laughing about?” 

I finally catch my breath, wiping away tears. “I was laughing at you.” I may have stopped the tears, but I can’t wipe away the toothy grin that plastered itself on my face. “Who’s catching fish in the middle of the road?” 

Levi doesn’t say anything, his eyes moving upward as he tries to think. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Nothing, never mind.” Another laugh erupts from my throat, but I calmly and smoothly cover it with a cough. Levi narrows his eyes, letting me know that I’m not as smooth as I thought. “You still - uh - have like three more hours if you want to go back to sleep.” 

When Levi wakes up the second time, he’s still looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind, and maybe I have. I just don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s a sleep talker, or that he has the weirdest dreams in existence.

We’re walking around the building now, looking for anything that might help us. So far we’ve found a can of corn, a sledgehammer, and a half-empty bottle of spray paint. We find a room with a table, where we diligently eat the can of corn with bread that Levi had in his rucksack. 

“So, I was thinking,” I start. And I had been thinking, a lot actually, about this. Whether it was in the haze of sleep or it was a part of my existentialism, I don’t know, but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. 

“That’s probably not good,” Levi replies, swallowing a mouthful of corn. He sighs. “What is it?” 

“I was thinking about how they’d bugged him… Marco.” 

Levi visibly stiffens, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve way too soon. To be honest, though, I think I could’ve waited to have this conversation a million years from now, and it would still be too soon. He  _ killed  _ someone. That’s not exactly something to be proud of, and Levi looks anything but proud. The way it should be, but still very painful. 

“What about it?” 

“They know our names…” 

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” Levi looks annoyed, his eyebrows furrowing, a frown playing out on his lips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this annoyed. Not even when Jean was arguing with him last night. 

“I was just thinking-” 

“You’ve said that three times now.” His left eye is twitching. 

“We should make up a coded language.” Levi heaves another sigh as he dry washes his face with his hand then leans his cheek on said hand, giving me an  _ are-you-actually-fucking-serious?  _ look. He takes a bite of bread. 

“You do know we can both speak an entirely different language than them, right?” 

Like I’ve said three times now, I’ve been thinking about this. I’ve been thinking about this so much that I even thought of that. “Yes, I do know that, but, Levi, you do know they can easily translate it, right.” 

“No one likes a wise ass, Yeager,” he replies when I offer up a grin. Though his words are cold, they’re being warmed by the smile that he gives in reply. “Code isn’t something to take lightly, Eren,” he says after a moment of silence. “It’s a giant can of worms that’ll take ages to perfect.” I let the words sink in as I munch on my rations. “What did you have in mind? Because I can guarantee that gibberish and pig latin won’t work.” 

“ Youyay owknay igpay atinlay?” 

“Iterallylay, owhay oesnday'tay?” A snort escapes me as I try not to spit the corn all over the table. 

“Alright, I get it but…” I trail off, looking at Levi across the table. He’s finished his meal and is quietly waiting for me to finish as well. 

“I thought you said you thought about this.” 

“I did… I just didn’t really think I’d get this far. I tried to make a coded language with Armin years ago, but he never really got the hang of it, so I just looked foolish when I’d tell him something in code and he’d just stare at me.” Levi nods, resting his cheek in his palm again. He still looks tired if the bags under his eyes are anything to go by, but he lacks the exhaustion I saw in him before.

“Well,” he says, “why don’t we start small, let it grow in time. We’ll start with our names.” Levi taps his forefinger on the table. Immediately, he taps it again, sliding his nail over the wooden surface. “That’s my name.” 

Confusion buries itself in my head. “Your name is… tap-tap?” 

A huff of indignations. “No, moron, that’s morse code. It literally means the letter A or Alfa. Your name would be-”  _ Tap.  _ “E or Echo for Eren.” 

“Why’d you choose A?” 

“It’s my last name, and before you ask, no, I’m not telling you. The L is far too long in morse code, and it’s not worth it.” He sounds almost petulant. “You try it.” 

_ Shit.  _ “Uh…” 

“You forgot already, didn’t you?” Sheepishly, I nod my head which only gets me a small grunt of annoyance. He taps out A again.  _ Tap-slide.  _ And then E.  _ Tap. _ I mimic him perfectly, then I repeat it again to make sure I got it right. 

Levi seems pleased. “Alright, that’s good, but we can’t use morse code for everything. If they have translators for Marian, then you can bet your ass someone there is going to know morse code. This is only for when we can’t talk, and I mean that literally. When our mouths are taped shut or someone is holding a gun to our head, do you understand?” 

I nod my head, frantically, a chill running up my spine as I think of those scenarios. “What’s code for ‘someone’s holding a gun to my head?” I say it half as a joke, but I don’t think Levi finds it very funny. I shouldn’t either.

“Let’s say, ‘I think we’re out of apples.’” 

“Why? That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“It’s fucking code, okay.” He crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but us.” 

I nod again, letting him know that I get it.  _ I think we’re out of apples. There’s a gun pointed at me  _ or  _ I’m in danger.  _ There’s something else I need to ask him. 

“Hey, Le-”

He shakes his head wildly. “What’s the fucking point of teaching you code if you’re not going to use it?” 

“Oh, okay,  _ Alfa, _ ” The name feels like cotton on my tongue, dry and unnatural. I can only assume that it’s going to get better with practice? “Where’d you learn morse code?” 

He looks thoughtful for a moment, a hand cupping his chin as he contemplates the question. He taps his finger against the wood again, four times.  _ Tap-tap-tap-tap.  _ “Hotel taught it to me a while ago. For the same reason I’m teaching you, now that I think about it.” 

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Hotel... four taps for H, that much I’m sure of. Hotel. H. Hange. My eyes light up, the realization hitting me like a hundred bricks. He’s talking about Hange. “Where’d Hotel learn it?” 

“That’s a good question.” He looks, dare I say, proud that I’d figured it out although he hadn’t made it that hard. And although his answer is vague, he doesn’t say anything else about it, and I don’t ask him to. 

Levi continues to teach me the alphabet in morse code, using names of people we already know to help me, and he even draws a guide to help me in the dust on the floor. With a crinkled nose, I realize that he hates it, but he continues to do it to help me. Later he uses water from a water bottle to wash his hands three times, saying something about how he’d rather be dehydrated than contract some sort of disease from touching all that dirt. 

I’m practicing with the code when the sun goes down.  _ Slide-slide-tap. Slide-slide-slide.  _ Levi’s watching me as I spell out the word and nods his head. “Yeah, it’s time to go.” He stuffs the blanket into the rucksack and slings it over his shoulder. 

“Where are we going now?” I know we have to leave. We can’t stay in this building forever, but I don’t know where we’re going to go from here. Are we going to the safe house? 

“The others should know that something’s gone wrong by now. Hopefully, they’ll stay put, but Hotel, Erw- uh - Sierra, and I decided that if something were to go wrong, and one of us not make it, we decided that we’d wait three days and then move on. That being that, we still have two days to go. I say we circle back around the city, make sure that no one’s following us. We just have to be sure because we can’t lead anyone to the safe house.” 

I nod. Walking back through the city isn’t something I want to do, but if it means possibly saving the rest of the crew, then it’s worth it, right?

We head out onto the cobble-stoned streets. The air is cold with the wind nipping at my nose. The holely, black sweater Erwin gave me doesn’t keep the chill out. I hadn’t noticed it earlier probably because I was so exhausted and sick with myself. Now, it’s undeniable. It has to be below freezing. 

As soon as we step foot out of the building, I immediately start shivering, rubbing my already numbing fingers against my arms. Levi takes notice fairly quickly as my chattering teeth make a noise that sets him on edge. 

“God damn, brat, didn’t you pack a coat?” 

“I didn’t pack anything seeing as I didn’t have time to before the MPs were knocking on my door,” I grit out, annoyance bleeding into my voice. I hate the cold. I absolutely despise it. Armin said, once, that it had something to do with my clair. Fire and ice have never gotten along. With Mikasa hating the heat, it only serves to prove Armin’s theory further. 

Levi takes pity on me though and reaches into his bag, rummages around under the blanket and food and pulls out a jacket. “This is my only jacket, so if you lose it or tear it, I will end you.” He moves in closer to me and throws the worn-out, brown hunting jacket around my shoulders. He pulls it tighter around me and zips it up all in the span of two seconds. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t freezing to death.

It’s only then that I realize how close we are in each other’s space. Quietly mumbling thanks, I take a step away from him. Clearing his throat, Levi says, “Come on, let’s move out.” 

Levi seems to know the town like the back of his hand, which is odd, but it’s something I don’t question. I file it away to ask him about it when we’re well and truly safe. At this point, however, I have a feeling that we’ll never be safe. Safety is a thing I took for granted, an illusion shattered by the people in uniforms. It’s something that we all take for granted until it’s taken away from us. It’s also something none of us have. None of us are  _ truly  _ safe. We could get stabbed in a robbery gone wrong. We could wander into the river for a quick swim and get pulled under the surface, never coming back up. We could be who we are and get killed because we’re different. We are never safe, but I’d tricked myself into thinking that. I’d been dreaming for a long time, and I’d finally woken up. Or I’d been awakened. It depends on how you look at it. 

Levi and I double back through Alleys, getting farther away from the maintenance tunnel as we walk forward, but never truly leaving the old ghost town behind. After about thirty minutes, I find myself growing complacent. There’s no one following us. If there was, they would have made themselves known by now. My footsteps grow heavier as I walk. I don’t need to walk on my tiptoes anymore. Levi seems comfortable as well, breathing just as easily as if he were sitting on the sofa back at his apartment. 

We go in circles, figure eights, straight paths until we come to the edge of town. There’s nothing but trees on the other side, a dense wilderness that I can’t even see through. That’s when Levi turns around and walks the other way, back where we’d come from.

“Where are you going?” 

“Back to the building,” he deadpans, his fingers stuffed in his pants pocket. “There’s no use in going any further tonight.” 

“You want to go back there?” I half yell. I don’t know what Levi’s thinking. If we stay put, there’s more of possibility that we’ll get caught. Is that what he wants? Is he so paranoid that he’s willing to put us in danger?

But the only reply I can get from him is, “Yes.” 

And after almost two hours of aimlessly wandering around the city for no apparent reason, we find ourselves back where we started, in the small room with the hole in the ceiling.

I’ve yet to take off Levi’s coat because I can’t seem to stop shivering. There’s a nasty draft that’s floated into the room, and it doesn’t want to leave me the fuck alone. I’m huddled into a ball with the old blanket thrown on top of me, courtesy of Levi himself. My face feels hot, but that doesn’t stop the goosebumps from rising on my arms. 

Levi’s currently trying to shut all the windows, looking for anything that might be letting in the cold. He’s stuffed old newspapers under the doors and in between cracks, trying his best to warm the room up. 

“Are you okay?” He’s concerned. Behind his eyes, there’s a small hint of worry, and right now that’s all I see. “You’re shaking pretty bad.” His hand touches my forehead. “Oh, my god, you’re burning.” 

“‘S c-cold,” I reply through gritted teeth. 

“I know it’s cold, so why are you almost on fire?” Now that I think about it, Levi seems completely unaffected. He’s standing up straight. His teeth aren’t chattering like mine are. His hands aren’t shaking with chills. He’s just…  _ fine.  _ I’m envious.

“It-ts m-my cl-clair.” I try to say more, but my chattering teeth make it nearly impossible. 

Levi just walks over to me, sits down to my left and re-situates the blanket so it’s over both of us. He leans in next to me, trying to share his warmth. I didn’t expect him to be this warm. Instinctively, I curl into myself tighter, trying to get closer to him. “I should’ve known it was a hot-head thing.” I lean my head against his shoulder, and the shivers stop. I don’t think of it as anything other than survival because without him there with me, I’m pretty sure that I would freeze to death. 

But I can’t help but to stop and notice that something in my chest warms up just as quickly as the rest of me. I’ll ignore it, for now, blame it on the fever I’m currently running. 

“Get some sleep. We’re leaving in a couple hours, getting out of town before the sun rises.” My eyes are already closing, the effort to keep them open becoming too much for me as I slump further against the man beside me. He’s humming, singing the song we’d sung last night. 

“My mom used t-to sing me that s-song,” I mumble, already starting to fall into sleep. I don’t know why it’s important for him to know that, but he has to know. I want him to know. He doesn’t say anything although he stops long enough that I know he heard me. But he continues after I’m done, and I fall asleep without another thought. 

When I wake up, I’m having trouble opening my eyes. There’s no warmth beside me anymore, letting me know that Levi is gone, and I figure, in my haze of sleep, that if I stay here long enough, he’ll come back. 

When he doesn’t I finally crack my eyelids open to see him standing across the room, frozen in his place. His eyes are wide, darting from me to the hole in the ceiling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this pale. 

“Hey, Echo…” His eyebrows raise. “I think we’re out of apples.” 

And here I thought the chills and shivers had stopped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why I'm updating every three days, I wish I had an answer for you. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! :D I actually learned morse code & the NATO phonetic alphabet in Creative Writing earlier this year - not as part of the course or anything... just because my teacher's cool as fuck and her husband was in the army and we don't do anything in class anyway.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated. :D


	13. What's in a Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a monster in the hole in the ceiling.

Levi’s hand scoots closer to his side, his finger tapping on his leg a couple times to get my attention. I nod as discreetly as I can, not taking my eyes of his finger to see if he’s seen it or not. I’m also afraid that if I look away, I’ll look up into the hole in the ceiling. He holds up two fingers first. Two words. Then he switches it to one finger. First word. 

_ Tap-slide-slide-tap. Tap-slide. Slide-tap-slide-tap. Slide-tap-slide.  _ My brain muddled with sleep and having only a couple hours to learn, I only get two out of the four letter. P and A. I look up to Levi, but his gaze is still fixed on the ceiling, a hard look in his eyes. He’s daring whatever it is up there to make a move before he can finish. I look down at his hand. Two fingers again. Second word. This time he slows down quite a bit, getting his shaking fist under control.  _ Tap-slide-tap. Tap-tap-slide. Slide-tap.  _ That’s the one word I don’t want to hear. 

_ Run.  _

It’s the same thing Mikasa had said to me a couple days ago.  _ “Run, Eren.”  _ There’s a choice here, and time almost seems to slow down enough for me to make. I could stay here, with Levi, defend myself, and possibly get both of us killed. Or I could run out of this building like a coward and get killed in the process. Each result has equal repercussions and rewards. 

Levi’s eyes turn to me, and I see him mouth, “ _ Please.”  _

That’s all I need to get me up and moving. I throw the blanket off of me and bolt for the door. On the way, I run past the rucksack, and almost instinctively, I grab it. I stumble along the corridors, trying to block out the shouting and the screaming. I can’t find it in myself to look back. I want to feel something,  _ anything,  _ other than terror. I think the guilt of leaving Levi behind would’ve been preferable to the constant state of fear looming over me. Just a sense of bravery is so beyond me that I want to be sick with myself. Why can’t I just stand up for myself, for Levi? Why do I always have to be  _ this  _ frightened? 

I get past the first flight of stairs okay, but it’s when I get to the second one that I trip. I’m shaking so much,  _ thinking  _ so much that I overstep the first one, and my foot bends from under me. The wind is knocked out of me as I land on my ass with a loud  _ thud.  _ I pull myself up and try to ignore the pain. It’s not hard with the adrenaline that’s rushing through me. My heart’s pounding. My hands are sweaty as I try to hold on to the rusty railing. Descending the stairs slower than before, I realize that I have no idea what time it is. It’s still dark outside, but my sense of time has flown out the window. Has it been thirty minutes since I’ve fallen asleep? An hour? I have no idea.

I’m pretty sure that my fever hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s just gotten worse as I can feel my stomach heaving and my vision going double. I realize that I don’t want to see the corn I had a couple hours ago. 

Now that I think about it, I don’t even know who was in the ceiling. Was it the MPs? Was it something else? Something more dangerous? All I know for certain is that Levi told me to run. I had to run. 

The rest of the stairs fly under me without any other problems. The front door is in view and then… what? Do I just run until I know that I’m safe? Where do I run to? I don’t know this town like Levi does, and the “tour” earlier was not something I stored away for later use. I’m completely at a loss for what to do. I don’t know where to run even though I have the means to get anywhere. I don’t know what’s safe, and I definitely don’t know where the safe house is, seeing as Levi refused to tell me.

And now he might actually be dead. He’s the only thing tethering me to my family. He’s the only hope I have of finding them. Without him, I  _ know  _ I won’t see any of them again.

Another decision. Another thought to process. Another epiphany that may cause me my life or someone else’s. This isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about Armin and Mikasa and Hange and Erwin. It’s about Levi. He has a family, too, people who care about him. And I just left him there with the monster in the hole in the ceiling.

My hand is reaching for the front door when I realize that I can’t just leave him there. I can still hear the muffled shouting from upstairs. My head is spinning, and I don’t mean that in a metaphorical,  _ oh-my-god-this-is-so-overwhelming  _ way. I mean it’s literally spinning. I don’t know if it’s the fever or the shock of the moment, but I will  _ not  _ let myself faint. 

There’s nothing I can do for Levi like this. There’s no way I can help him. If I turn away now, there’s a chance that I won’t make it up the stairs. And if Levi has to worry about anything than himself, then it may cost him his life. I don’t want to put him that position.

I stumble out of the front door, not looking back, but not looking that far forward either. I stare at my feet, trying to keep them from stumbling over one another. If I had been looking forward, I would’ve seen the men with guns aimed at my head. If I had been looking forward I would’ve seen that they were aimed right at me. I would’ve seen the words coming from one of their lips. “On your knees! Hands behind your head!” I would’ve seen the green horse with the horn protruding from its forehead. 

I would’ve found a way not to comply. 

But as it stands, I don’t want to get shot, so my knees hit the cold pavement with an audible thump. Instinctively, my hands go up in the air, and my fingers interlace behind my head. There’s a guy walking toward me. No, two guys. Four MPs? Either my vision is blurring into reality, or they’re multiplying by twos.

There’s shouting behind me, and I don’t have to turn around to know that it’s Levi. I had held some misguided hope that he’d be able to get away, to fight off his attacker and make it out of the window. But what is hope anymore? Hope is nothing but a set-back, a burden placed in humanity that kept them away from reality. 

Levi is pushed to his knees beside me, drawing my attention to the scowl on his face. I don’t know if we’re allowed to talk, but even if we were, I don’t think I could get anything out of him even if I tried. I don’t even know what I would say. A goodbye? An  _ I told you so?  _ Maybe I have the chance to make my last words meaningful; maybe I don’t. It doesn’t matter now because the MPs yank my arms down and tie them together with something. It feels almost like leather, but I can’t explain it because now they’re jamming something into my neck that makes the whole world extremely more blurry than it was before. Black spots start to dance in front of my eyes, and my eyelids seem to be becoming heavier than lead. Swaying, I blink, trying to keep myself awake. My knees are digging into the street, and the pain serves to ground me to reality, helps me focus on  _ something.  _

I try to focus on Levi, the way he holds his chin up in a single, silent act of defiance. There are MPs swarming him, manhandling his arms behind his back, yanking his head to the side to stab him with the same syringe they’d stabbed me with. 

My last thought before I fade into the black abyss of unconsciousness is how fucking unsanitary that is; Levi’s going to be so freaking upset.

When I first wake up, all I can feel is my back resting against something hard and probably dirty. I’m bouncing around in what I can only guess is the floor of the moving vehicle. Although, I’m having trouble recalling what has happened. My face feels like it’s on fire, and I can feel my whole body shivering while simultaneously bouncing around. My stomach is heaving and I wish I could see where the fuck I am. 

I don’t know if anyone else has ever woken up after what was supposed to be a little hour-long nap, and it’s actually ten o’clock at night and confusion threatens to destroy your very existence. That’s how I’m feeling right now, but it’s a lot worse because I’m blindfolded, and I can’t move my hands from behind my back. My shoulders ache with the strain of being in the same position, and my neck is sore.

Even though there’s confusion and hazy edges of half-formed memories, I know that  _ I shouldn’t be alive right now.  _ It’s a thought that strikes me suddenly and without hesitation, and I’m left with a heaving stomach, a barrage of shivers and cold sweats, and confused mind that doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be alive or not.

“Echo…” It’s Levi, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

I don’t trust myself to talk. I know that if I move one inch, even to open my mouth and reply, I’ll get sick. And I’d much rather keep the remaining contents of my stomach right where they are. 

“Are you awake?” I try to make a grunting sound, just to let him know I can hear him. Apparently, it works too well because he quickly shushes me. “Do you want the whole convoy to hear us? Holy shit.” 

Either the road has mellowed out and my stomach’s finally settling, or I’ve become so detached from my body that I’ve become numb to everything regarding it. Either way, it gives me more confidence to speak. “Where…?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers my unasked question. “You’ll never guess what was above us.” 

“MP…” My words are coming out harsh and raspy. 

“Oh, my God, you sound like shit, and yes, you’re right. But it was a different kind of MP. Something I had never seen before.” Levi sounds more amazed than he does frightened or pissed off. “I saw a Clair in the MP uniform.” Levi pauses, letting the words sink into me, waiting for me to react. Strangely enough, I don’t. Maybe I just don’t care now. Maybe I’m so far gone that I don’t give a shit what other people are doing. I’m just trying to fucking survive, okay? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s kind of hard to do that when you’re tied down and blindfolded. “What do you think they’re going to do with us? Do you think they’re going to kill us? Or do you think we’re going to get recruited.” There’s something cynical about the way he’s talking now. It almost looks like he’s smiling around the question. “This should be fun, right?” And there’s not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

_ What?  _ A strangled gasp leaves my throat, and instantly I want nothing more than for this blindfold to come off. I want to look at Levi, to make sure he’s okay because this person might sound like Levi, but there are red flags going off in every single part of my brain. I flail around on the floor, but hands grasp me, slamming me against the floor. I don’t know how many arms are holding me down, but I can’t move an inch. 

“We’re almost there, fire-freak.” It’s Levi’s voice, but it’s not his words. I don’t need someone to spell it out for me. My brain is going haywire, trying to figure out what exactly is going on. Was this all a massive ploy? Was Levi on their side the whole time? Why would he kill Marco, then? That’s going to unnecessary lengths to prove himself. Did they do something to him? When? And more importantly, why? It doesn’t make any sense. This isn’t Levi. I know that, but it’s not much to go on. The vehicle feels so small now, and I’m having trouble breathing.

I try to calm myself because right now I’m just worried about where the actual Levi is, and if he’s even alive. “Where is he?” I manage to get the words out through gritted teeth with only mild stumbling. 

“Oh, you’re friend?” Levi-who-is-not-actually-Levi asks. “He’s around. I borrowed his charming tone for a little bit. I hope you don’t mind. He’s fine, though. If it makes you feel any better, you can pretend I’m him.” It doesn’t make me feel any better. It just furthers to confuse me. Clairs working for the MPs? What kind of clair is voice stealing?  _ Is Levi okay?  _

“Fuck off…” The words come out weaker than I want them to, but they get the message across in the end. 

“Aw,” I can see them almost pouting. In my head, they look like Levi and sound like Levi, but I’m not going to let myself get the two confused. This is not Levi. This is not him. “What’s your name,  _ Echo.”  _

My name…

How can something so meaningless have so much importance? What is the purpose of a name anyway? Is it so we can differentiate ourselves from others? Is it what makes us who we are? Identification in the form of four-letter… Is that what my name is?

Why is it important to them? 

“My name is Echo.” And if I believe it, what choice do they have? 

“I doubt that,” they say, and suddenly there’s a sharp pain in my shoulder. There’s a hand squeezing down on it so hard that I’m sure it’s going to break. I try to hold back the scream of pain I feel rising from my throat, but when the hand presses down impossibly harder I can’t hold it back any longer. 

“Oh, look at that. We’re here.” 

Suddenly, I’m being lifted off my back, into the air. Hand grabbing me from all angles. I feel dirty, grimy with sweat and the hands of the people that want me dead, the hands of the people who’ve killed countless of my kind. The sunlight hits my skin, warming me up if not just a tiny bit. Only, the cold breeze takes the warmth away from me quickly, leaving me colder than I was before. 

If I could just get warm enough, then I could use my power, give all of these assholes third-degree burns, and find the only person who can get me to my family safely. 

In my head, that sounds like the perfect plan. 

In reality, I find that it’s not going to be that easy. 

When the sunlight dies out and the warmth leaves me completely, only then do they take off the blindfold. It’s a small room with no windows. The concrete floors look wet, and when I look up, I see that there’s a crack in the ceiling where the water is slowly dripping down. There’s a small lump in the corner that I can only imagine is supposed to be a bed.

My eyes travel over the room and are instantly drawn to a shivering figure in the corner. A mess of black hair curled into a ball, his arms wrapped around his legs.  _ Levi.  _ And the people standing behind me don’t even matter anymore. I rush toward him, sliding on my knees to be beside him. I reach out my hand, trying in some small way to comfort him. 

“I told you we wouldn’t have a problem getting him in here.” Before my hands can reach Levi’s arm, he was gone. Vanished like a puff of smoke. Furrowing my brows, I turn toward the door that being shut in my face. I look back to the place where Levi was sitting, and I take my place beside it, hoping that by some miracle he’d return.

There’s something in my head telling me quietly, albeit a bit melodramatically, that this was the beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... you know when you watch a movie and when the credits roll you're trying to figure out what the fuck you just watched...
> 
> What the fuck even is the Attack on Titan movie??? Is it taboo in the fandom to talk about it? Did some of you guys enjoy it? I WANNA KNOW! Hit me up on my [tumblr](http://summoningmutations.tumblr.com/) and educate me please! Also I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've been sick again and writing it literally the only thing I can do that wont hurt me. Physically >.>
> 
> Feedback always appreciated <3


	14. Hot Showers and Foot Soldiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eren takes a hot shower.

               I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in this room, the fever slowly taking over my body, turning it into a shivering, useless mess. I don’t know where Levi is, if he’s safe; if he’s… dead. The thought makes me want to scream, to punch the wall I’m leaning against with all my strength. I try to tell myself that everything is going to be okay, that Levi is safe and that we’re going to get out of here and get back to my family.

            But honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I didn’t know anything to begin with. Shivering in the cold, that’s only now dawning on me. I didn’t know that this would ever be a possibility when I signed up for this. I thought we would be able to get out of the city without a scratch. Obviously, it didn’t quite work out like that.

            The threat of death has subsided now, but the fear of the unknown is still lurking in the back of my mind like a bad dream. It’s slowly crawling into my chest, making my heart pound and my body shake, clawing up my throat like it’s something physical. I can taste it, and I want nothing more than to ignore it. But it’s like it’s a part of me, living with me, against me, inside of me. It’s digging hot knives into me. That’s what fear does, I suppose. Makes you into its puppet, controlling you in ways that are unseen, unknown.

            Regardless, my fever has gotten worse, my skin feels like it’s being burned through, like paper held against a candle. My breathing is coming out sporadically, and I can’t for the life of me get my heart under control. My whole body aches, and even though the room feels like it’s below freezing, sweat drips down my temple.

            My sense of time is gone, floated out of the non-existent window. I don’t know if I’ve been in this room for five minutes or five hours or five days, although it feels like an eternity. The dark, damp room does nothing to settle my stomach, making me gag with its moldy aura.

            I can hear voices outside of the door, chattering like birds. I can’t hear what they’re saying, just a whisper of conversation, like it’s passing by me in a breeze. I want to crawl towards the door, but I know that I’m setting myself up for failure, that I won’t make it before I collapse. I just need to hear what they’re saying; it’s almost imperative. With massive effort, I manage to calm my breathing down long enough to stop the roaring in my ears. Even then, I can only make out the barest hints of conversation.

            “We can’t… dying.” My eyes slip close. I can’t keep them open any longer.

            “… we’ll do… necessary.”

            “Bring him in.”

            There’s a rustle behind the door, footsteps getting too close for comfort. And even then, I can’t do anything. I can’t move or scream, and I’m almost certain that whatever happens next, it isn’t going to be good. The door creaks open, and I’m sure that now’s the time. This is moment where my life is going to end, and I wonder if I’ll see all of my memories flash before my eyes.

            It will be somewhat of a relief. I’ll be able to finally let all my fears and anxieties slip away as I breathe my last breath. Everything will be over soon, and finally, I’m at peace with that. But just as I’m getting prepared to make the way to other side, I feel hands hoisting me up, grabbing under my armpits and invading my space. I can’t even find my feet, no time. Whoever is holding me up won’t let me try to get my feet under me. I’m just… being dragged out of the room, down a hallway just as damp and drab as the rest of the building. I don’t even get a good look what going on around me. My vision blurring, my skin heating, my body shaking.

            We come up to a different door. It could be the same, I’m not entirely sure. Without a second thought, they throw me through the threshold, leaving me in another cold, dank room where the air is thin and cold, but I can’t stop burning up.

            I’m not sure what the deal was with our little walk around, but I hope that we won’t ever do it again. Just the thought of moving another inch makes me want to hurl with exhaustion, and I’m not sure I could even puke without dying.

            Suddenly, there’s a cold hand resting against my forehead, and my eyes snap open, unaware that I’d even closed them. There’s two… three Levi’s swimming in front of my vision, but I know one thing for sure. That it’s him. There’s no trick, no cryptic messages, no plots to uncover, no soldiers to suffocate. It’s just Levi, muttering quiet curses against my ear.

            I feel like sobbing at the sheer familiarity of it, and when he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer, I realize that I am sobbing. Rolling through my body, the shakes I can’t control take over me, my stomach twitching as I take in the older man in front of me. I can’t speak. I can’t even see. But it’s _him._ He’s okay.

            “What happened to you?” I hear.

            “I-”

            “Shut the fuck up. Don’t talk.” His voice is hushed, scared, not commanding. “You’ve got a fever, and being in this fucking cold ass cell doesn’t help you any.” I feel more than see Levi shrugging out of his jacket, throwing it around me. “I’m not a fucking doctor for Clairs, so I don’t know if this is going to work or not.” The warmth of the jacket envelopes me, and instantly everything becomes sharper. There’s still three Levis but it looks more like him now and not a jumble of blurs.

            He sits down beside me, getting as close as he can without freaking me out. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his elbows against them, hanging his head. He looks broken, defeated, and it’s not something I ever thought I’d see. The shivering subsides to mild tremors.

            “What do they want?” I’m not sure he can understand me with my teeth chattering the way they are, but I have to ask, praying that he does understand.

            He sighs, deep and uneven. “I don’t know. If they wanted us dead, we would be dead. The only thing I can come up with is torture.”

            I feel like my eyes are going to bulge out of my head, my heart beat speeding up to match the pace of my racing mind. _Torture?_ “Why?”

            “They want to know where the others are.” Despite the serious topic, Levi doesn’t seem that worried. It’s aggravating. Why can’t he show the least bit of emotion? Why does he have to be so stoic all the time? I’m freaking out, and he’s as cool as a cucumber. What an ass.

            “But they’re not going to kill us.” I point out, trying to shed a little light on the topic, trying to think on the bright side like Armin was always doing.

            He turns his head to look at me, his eyes glassy, like he’s not really looking at anything. “There are things worse than death, I’m afraid.” And he leaves it at that, and I wish that he would say something else. Words of reassurance aren’t helpful, not in this situation. Then again, there isn’t anything that could help us in this situation.

            But is it wrong to want something more, to want those words to wash over me, protect me? Right now, we’re still alive, we’re still healthy and breathing normally, but what about in a week, when they’ve broken every bone in our bodies, when they’ve cut words of hate into our skin? What about in a month, when they’ve stripped us of ourselves, cut off our eyelids and replaced them only to rip them off again, when our toe nails have stopped growing back.

            What then?

            What now?

            Terror starts to replace the fuzzy thoughts in my head, and for the first time, I wish Levi would’ve just stayed quiet.         

            “Hey, brat,” Levi says, quietly placing a hand on my shoulder. For a spit second, I think he’s going to tell me that everything’s going to be okay, that we’re going to find a way to get out of this like all of the heroes in Armin’s novels. It’s horrifying to even think about him saying those words. They don’t mean anything. But instead, he says, “I might have a plan, so shut the fuck up.”

            We spent the rest of our time together in silence, and slowly, the fever ebbed away until I was left cold and covered in old sweat. Levi never moved away from me, never feared that my sickness was contagious.

            Through the worst of it, he’d even rub soothing circles into my arm as my whole body shook and ached. But under his jacket, I felt safe, protected. Whatever the MPs were planning to do with us didn’t matter as long as Levi was here.

            Sleep doesn’t come easy, and when it does, I’m too restless to stay asleep for very long. Twenty minutes at the most, thirty seconds at the least. For a couple hours, I’m off and on. Levi huddled beside me, trying to keep me and himself warm.

            Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I awoke for the last time feeling more exhausted than when I fell asleep. Hopelessness never really left me alone, creeping into the corners of my mind, leaving me feeling dead and cold inside. I want to cry, but I know that I can’t. There’s nothing left of me to _cry._

You never really know how much you miss the feeling of hope until you know you’ll never feel it again.

            “E?” Levi mumbled beside me. His voice was low and rough, and I knew that he didn’t have as much trouble sleeping as I did. Only when he spoke did I realize that I had bolted up from my spot against the wall. The shivers are gone, and I can feel the sweat cooling on my forehead.

            I lean back trying to get in the position I was most comfortable without disturbing Levi.

            “Feeling okay now?” Levi asks. I whip my head around to look at him, and the first thing I notice is how pale he is. I knew he was pale from the moment I first saw him, but now he just looks like a ghost. His skin is pasty and sallow, and it makes my chest ache. His eyes are closed, and his mouth barely moves when he talks. “I know you’re not one hundred percent, but at least you’re not burning me anymore?”

            I want to ask him what he means, why I suddenly starting feeling better when I was in the same room with him. I want to ask why he looks so close to death and how that happened, _why_ that happened. But I keep my mouth shut, unable to form the thoughts into words, unable to form those words into legitimate questions.

            When I hear Levi’s breathing even out, I start to relax further into the wall, trying to unclench my aching muscles. There’s a crick in my neck, and I move my head from side to side, hoping that might help. It only serves to deepen my frustration with my body. I wish I could go back to sleep to try and get the thoughts of death and murder out of my head, but I know that it would only be an invitation to have nightmares and for the feelings to plague my unconscious. I’m so caught up in what’s going on in my head that I don’t hear the footsteps making their way down the hall. I jump when I hear the sound of the door unlocking and slamming open.

            Levi, who I thought was asleep, instantly bounds to his feet, hands in fists by his side. The warmth that was pressed in beside me is gone, and I can’t help the chill that starts to run up my spine again. When the person clears their throat, I have no choice but to look at them.

There’s one thing I notice instantly. This person is not Military Police. Army fatigues are swapped for a pantsuit, glasses perched on a hooked nose, I know that she can’t be a part of the MPs. She looks too nice, and for some reason, it makes me feel a little better. The knot in my stomach starts to unravel, and I lean my head back against the stone.

Levi doesn’t seem to care, his shoulders tense and eyes narrowed. He looks like he’s ready to attack her, but he’s too weak to bring himself to do it.

“This won’t do at all.” She clicks her tongue and looks behind her, looking at someone we can’t see. “I’ll need them fed and bathed. And for God’s sake give them some new clothes. They look like sewer rats.” Levi’s jaw clenches and his fingers crack under the strain of holding them closed so tightly. One of the woman’s perfect eyebrows disappears behind her bangs, but she just clicks her tongue again and turns on her heel without another glance in our direction.

Someone in an MP uniform replaces her, standing where she stood, holding a rifle. It’s a bit much for two people, but I can’t bother to care about how melodramatic they feel like being. His gaze catches mine, and I can see his finger twitch on the trigger. He doesn’t raise the gun. Instead, he barks, “Up with you.”

Slowly, I try to get my feet under me, but finding it harder than normal with his eyes boring holes into me. Levi steps closer, grabbing my arm, giving me something to hold on to. I try to give him a smile, but I’m sure it looks more like a grimace than a sign of thanks. I steady myself, trying not to look as lightheaded as I felt. I’m sure it doesn’t work because once I got my feet under me, Levi keeps a steadying hand on my elbow.

The guard looks at us, glancing from head to toe, as says, “Follow me.”

When we step out of the cell, there isn’t anybody to manhandle us, to drug us. It’s just an empty corridor with no windows and very little lighting. Looking around, I can see that there aren’t any walls. It’s just bricks with support beams, like someone forgot the insolation and the plaster. I wrap my arms around myself, and only then realize that I’m still wearing Levi’s jacket. The sleeves are a little short on me, but the inside of the jacket is warm.

“Where’re we going?” Levi asks, his eyes narrowing slightly at the back of the guard’s head. I don’t know why Levi expected an answer. I don’t know what he was going to do with the information when he received it, but I’m not surprised when the guard just stayed silent, leading us to God knows where with heavy steps and tight lips.

He leads us into what can only be a wash room, shower heads pointing in all directions. Grime and mold run up the walls like some macabre painting. It smells so bad in here that I want to turn the other way and run. I’m pushed further into the room by the guard who’d stepping in behind us. I look toward Levi, but he’s just looking at the shower in disgust.

“Strip,” the guard says, and I can feel all the blood drain from my face. I look toward Levi, and I can swear I can hear his teeth grinding against each other. His nostrils flare, and his fists clench once more.

Before, I can say anything, Levi turns on his heels, looking directly at the guard. _“Stand outside.”_ His voice echoes, reverberating around the room, and I don’t have to look at his eyes to know that they’re pure white.

For a moment, the room is silent, tense. Then, the guard turns on his heels and leaves the room. Another moment passes, Levi and I just staring at the spot where the guard was standing.

The silence is driving me crazy, so I ask, “Is this your escape plan?”

Levi huffs, turning to me. “No, but it’s a part of it. I just had to make sure that my clair still works on the foot soldiers.” He looks around the washroom, his lips curled in disgust. He seems to be having an internal debate with himself, his eyes darting from the mold lining the floor to the grime on the shower heads. He walks over to one of the handles and takes a deep breath, turning it slowly.

I want to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but I’m too caught up in watching the way he steps around the sudden spray of water with practiced ease. Surprisingly, the water doesn’t come out brown or green or some other disgusting color. Steam starts to fill the room, and just the thought of a hot shower has me shucking Levi’s jacket with vigor. I can’t remember a time when I had anything but a lukewarm washing, and the grime and rust and mold all disappears.

“What are you doing?” Levi asks, predictably, I might say.

“I’m about to take a hot shower,” I answer, pulling the dirty shirt over my head. In another lifetime, I might be embarrassed with the prospect of nudity, but right now, I couldn’t give two shits. I don’t look to see Levi’s eyebrows raise in confusion as I shuck the rest of my clothes and bolt under the warm spray of water.

I didn’t know how dirty I actually was until I watch the dried blood and dirt wash off and swirl down the drain. I hear another shower start up, but I don’t look to see if Levi is actually using it. I just stand there under the spray, scrubbing my chest with my hands and running fingers through my hair, trying to get out of the clumps of mud.

            I don’t come to my sense until after I hear the door open and a different guard walks in. He looks a lot younger than the first, a lot more terrified. He’s holding a bundle of clothes in his hands that won’t stop shaking. There’s no rifle slung on his arm.

            I turn off the shower, and I hear Levi do the same. I don’t want to turn it off just yet, but I know that I can’t stay under the water any longer than I already have. My fingers have begun to wrinkle. I make eye contact with the boy across the room, and I expect him to say something, to yell at us, but he just sets the clothes down on the edge of a sink. He then lowers his gaze to the floor. Levi and I share a glance, but other than that, there’s nothing said between us. We just grab the clothes left for us and start dressing.

          The guard leads us out of the washroom and down another hallway, leading us around corners and through dark corridors that had only two doors. It was a maze, and I’m surprised at how the guard leads us through it with such ease.

            Finally, after what seems like a small eternity, we reach a pair of steel doors that looks out of place in the old, brick prison.      The guard reaches out a hand a pushes it open.

            The woman from earlier is sitting at the head of an oval-shaped glass table, her long nails tapping against the glass, while the hand nurses a glass of amber liquid. When we enter, she looks up and smiles. It’s eerie, and it sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end. She sets her cup down and waves the guard away with a simple flick of the wrist.

            He closes the door behind him.

            “I think we have a lot to talk about,” she says, and the churning of my gut sets my teeth on edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD!!!   
> yAYYAYyy  
> Shout out to my beta Akilli for chipping away at the ol' writers block.


End file.
